


Hunter Is As Hunter Does

by TwoBoys2Love



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, First Time, First Time Bottom Dean, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Not brothers, Switch Dean, Switch Dean Winchester, Switch Sam, Switch Sam Wesson, Top Sam, Top Sam Wesson, Vampire Adam Milligan, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBoys2Love/pseuds/TwoBoys2Love
Summary: When he is returning to his car one night, Dean comes across an unconscious hunter. He tends to his injuries and they get to know each other. Sam is mysterious, and a lot of what he’s telling Dean doesn’t make sense. When he finds out what’s actually going on, and tries to help, he’s not sure he’s made the correct decision.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean pulled his jacket up over his head. He hated the cold slip of rain down the back of his neck. It chilled him to the bone. Cold weather in Seattle. All the tourist books claimed Seattle had a _moderate_ climate but it felt pretty hostile to Dean. 

The rain was so strong it was kind of falling at an angle and it pricked Dean’s skin like hundreds of little needles. “ _Moderate_ , my ass,” he muttered. 

Puddles were already forming on the sidewalk and Dean tried to avoid them. He didn’t want his boots to be completely soaked. 

Finally, he saw the familiar tail-lights of the Impala. “God, am I glad to see _you_ , baby.” Crooked grin emerging, Dean rounded the car and stopped dead in his tracks. 

_A body._

Frowning, coat still held up to shield his eyes from the rain, Dean took a step closer. 

He’d almost settled on _drunk college kid_ when he saw the blood that was soaking through the man’s shirt. 

“Fuck.” Finding injured people was complicated. Hospitals asked too many questions and it wasn’t like Dean could just walk away. There hadn’t been another soul on the street as long as Dean had been walking. 

Crouching down, he let his jacket settle back onto his shoulders and pressed two fingers just below the man’s jaw. 

The pulse beneath the rain-cooled flesh was fast but seemed strong enough. The strange thing? The possession tattoo that was visible through the tear in the man’s shirt. 

“Hunter, huh?” Even more complicated. The guy certainly wouldn’t want to end up in a hospital if he was a hunter. 

Dean slid an arm under the unconscious man’s shoulders and one under his knees and hoisted him up. 

The guy was tall; taller than Dean, probably six foot five or so but he was lighter than Dean had expected. It took a few minutes for Dean to get the other hunter into the back seat of the Impala and by the time Dean closed the back door, he was soaked. “You better not be an asshole when you wake up, Buddy.”   
Dean climbed into the car and started it up.

-=-=-=-

It was a happy coincidence that Dean had decided to rent a holiday cabin at _Whispering Ash._ The place was probably used by fishermen in the Spring and Summer because most of the cabins were on the shores of a small lake. The winter being miserable and rainy meant that Dean had the place to himself. Well, he had been alone until he brought home the wounded guy.

He manhandled the hunter onto the bed and stared at him for a few moments while he tried to figure out what to do. He leaned down and pushed the man’s hair from his damp face. His skin felt cool against Dean’s fingertips and his lips were a little blue.

“Great,” Dean muttered. The last thing he needed was for the guy to die of hypothermia. “And where’s that blood coming from?”

Shrugging out of his soggy jacket, Dean walked over to the door and locked it before turning back to face his uninvited roommate.

Dean trudged back over to the bed and sat down near the man’s hip. He took a deep breath and pushed the torn, wet t-shirt up until most of the hunter’s chest was exposed. There was a pretty long gash across the guy’s ribs but it didn’t look deep enough to have made him pass out from blood loss.

Clearly, the guy was fit. Even though he was slim, his body was muscular. Unlike most hunters, he wasn’t covered in scars. He'd have a good one once this new wound healed though.

Dean tugged at the hunter’s t-shirt and it ripped easily. He pulled it free from under the dead weight and balled it up. He hesitated for a couple of seconds then he wiped the guy down. He smoothed the still damp t-shirt over the curves of flesh and cleaned up the wound as best he could.

It wasn’t too deep; Dean had been right. He squinted as he studied the man’s body. There were bruises appearing across the broad chest and down the left side of his body. When Dean looked up at the man’s face, he couldn’t help reaching out to trail his fingers along the hunter’s strong jaw. There were bruises there too. “What the hell happened to you?”

Dean shifted closer and slid both hands through the man’s hair. There was a hell of a lump on the left side of his skull. “Someone hit a home run on you, dude.”

At least there didn’t seem to be anything life-threatening going on. Well, nothing Dean could see.

He sat back and looked down at the guy’s jeans. Of course, the denim was soaked. Dean sighed and reached out tentatively for the silver belt buckle. “Don’t wake up and punch me.”

Judging by the guy’s biceps, a punch from him wouldn't be pleasant. He had a six-pack too, and his hip bones had that sweet cut above his thighs. Dean licked his lips and rubbed his hand down over his face. Why the _hell_ did the guy have to be good-looking?

Dean stood, reached down again and finished unbuckling the man’s belt. He walked down to the bottom of the bed and loosened the laces on the guy’s boots before pulling them off. Before he could change his mind, he grabbed the cuffs of the guy’s jeans and tugged until he managed to get them off.

At least the guy was wearing boxers. And, there was no way that Dean was going to take those off.

He headed to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and went back to the bed.

Dean blinked a few times, pursed his lips then bent down and rubbed the towel over all the damp flesh that was lying on his bed. “How is this my life?”

It didn’t take long for Dean to have his guest all dried off. The boxers weren’t too bad, they’d dry quickly. As he pulled the blanket up he took a last look at the hunter’s muscular chest. A little reluctantly, he tucked the quilt under the man’s arms before stepping back. “Well, _that_ happened.”

Fortunately, there was a couch in the cabin, because Dean wasn’t going anywhere near the bed until he had to. He was pretty tempted to cuff the guy _to_ the bed. _Hell_ , Dean was a hunter and he knew exactly how he would react if he woke up half-naked in a cabin with a complete stranger.

It was a good thing that Dean was a light sleeper. That wouldn’t stop him from sleeping with his knife in his hand though. He propped up the throw pillows on the couch, sank down onto it, kicked his feet up and crossed his ankles. He would sleep fitfully; every little sound was going to wake him up.

But, he had a roof over his head, the cabin was warm and, for once, it wasn’t Dean who would wake up with a concussion.

-=-=-=-

There was a thump and Dean’s eyelids shot open. His heart was already pumping adrenaline-hard by the time his boots hit the floor.

It was the guest-hunter. It looked like he had tried to get up and found out just how hard he’d been clocked in the head.

“Hey,” Dean said firmly.

“Who the _fuck_ are you?” The guy grabbed his head and winced. He was sitting on his ass beside the bed, long limbs flailed out at weird angles.

“Stay calm, okay?” Dean held his knife up so the man on the floor could see it then he set it down slowly and deliberately on the couch behind him. “I found you unconscious, in the-”

“-and you stole my clothes?” The man rubbed at the side of his head and winced again. “What did you hit me with?”

“What? _Whoa_ there, Sherlock. You’re not getting the facts quite right. You were passed out in an alley near where I had parked my car. Your shirt was ripped and I saw the anti-possession tattoo on your chest.” Dean finally took a breath and raised his eyebrows as he gave the guy a few moments to put all the pieces together.

When the guy just looked down at the bruises on his body, Dean took a few steps closer. “My name is Dean. Dean Winchester. I’m a hunter. I assumed you were too.”

The man looked up and blinked his hazel eyes a few times before he finally looked up at Dean and nodded. “I’m Sam. Sam Wesson. I’ve heard of you.”

Dean grinned. “I _do_ have a reputation.”

Looking a little confused, Sam frowned and looked down again as he tried to pull himself up off the floor.

“Hey. Take it easy. You’ve probably got a concussion and there’s a nasty slice on your…” Dean gestured towards Sam’s chest as he took a few steps closer.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Sam sank back down onto the floor. “I was. It was a hunt. I was hunting.”

“Freddy Kruger?”

“Who?” Sam’s brow furrowed and he poked gingerly at the wound on his chest.

“Never mind.” What kind of a hunter had never seen _Nightmare On Elm Street_? “Let me help you up. You should probably stay in bed for a while.”

Sam looked up from beneath the sandy-brown hair that had fallen into his eyes and nodded.

When Dean held out his hand, Sam took it and they managed to get him back up onto the bed without too much effort. Dean pulled his hand away slowly; Sam’s hands were huge. “How long you been hunting?”

“A while,” Sam said as he ran his hands down both of his arms. Probably checking for damage.

“I had a look at you while you were out. Don’t think you’re too messed up.”

Sam looked a bit taken aback when he looked up.

“I didn’t,” Dean protested. “Look, I just wanted to make sure I shouldn’t have dumped you at the E.R.,” Dean added quickly. He wasn’t opposed to the guy thinking he was interested in a roll in the hay, but he didn’t want the guy thinking he was some kind of creep.

“Thanks for not doing that.” Sam looked up and made a half-assed attempt at a friendly expression. “Fake insurance.”

Dean realized he was standing there staring so he went to the table and sat down to fiddle with the computer. “There’s water by the bed. Sandwich in the fridge if you want one.”

Sam was quiet for a while, and Dean tried to keep from staring at him. When the cabin stayed quiet he peered over the top of the laptop screen. “You okay?”

Sam’s eyes were squeezed shut and he was a little pale. “I’m okay. I’ll get out of your hair in a couple of minutes.”

“Dude. Chill. There’s no rush. You look a little green around the gills.” Hunters didn’t like to admit when they were hurt or sick. Keeping any weakness hidden was a good idea. Especially when you woke up in a stranger's cabin.

“Where are we?”

“Cabin, _Whispering_ something or other,” Dean answered. He leaned back in the chair and abandoned the ruse of using the computer.

“Still near Twin Lakes?” Sam rubbed at his forehead as though he had a headache.

“How hard did you get hit, man?” Dean was beginning to think that Sam might have been hit harder than he’d figured.

The frown on Sam’s face intensified and he rubbed at his chest. “I don’t really remember.”

It was a familiar situation. There had been many times when Dean had woken up and not known what the hell had happened. “What you huntin’?”

When Sam looked up, his expression was all business, but there was a lot of tension in his jaw. “I was after… ghouls.”

“Huh,” Dean said softly. He’d come to the tiny rural community following signs that hinted at a vamp’s nest. “Must be one of those mystery spots around here where all those weird lines intersect.”

“Why?” Sam’s facade faltered slightly. He wasn’t nearly as good at hiding things as Dean was.

“Well. I came here after a vamp’s nest. Have a Sheriff friend who read some internal reports that came from the area. Full on Dracula party.”

“Oh. Weird.” Sam shifted and winced again. His breathing was a little shallower and he looked as though he was in pain.

“Could have cracked ribs,” Dean suggested.

“I think they’re just bruised,” Sam said softly. “Listen, you mind if I rest a bit? I’ll try and get out of here in an hour or so.”

“There’s no rush, stay as long as you need too. I was gonna head to the ranger station and see what maps they have.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Sam slid a little lower on the bed and looked relieved.

“You’d do the same,” Dean said. He was never sure if that were true for other hunters but Dean enjoyed having someone to talk to sometimes. Someone who knew the reality of the job.

Head tilted slightly, Sam leaned back against the pillow and sighed. His eyes closed again and Dean realized he was _still_ staring.

“I’m gonna head out. Make yourself at home. Need anything?” Dean asked; it seemed polite.

“No. Thanks.” Sam’s voice already sounded a little groggy. He’d probably be asleep before Dean had the car started.

-=-=-=-

Nothing Dean found out at the Ranger Station surprised him. There were a few abandoned places around the area that would serve as a good squat for a nuclear family of vampires - it would just take an investment of time to go through them all.

There was a diner in the closest town. It had seen better days, but the pie looked decent. Dean stopped by and picked up some food. Of course, he had no idea what Sam would eat, so he picked a few things. Hunters usually had good appetites. They should if they were _good_ hunters anyway.

Dean shoved some fries in his mouth, climbed in the car and drove to the cabin.

He had no idea what to expect. Sam might be gone. He might be lying in the bed staring at the ceiling in some sort of weird-ass coma. That would be inconvenient.

When Dean shoved the cabin door open, he was relieved to see there was no dead body - or comatose one. Good start. “Sam?”

The bathroom door opened and Sam emerged quickly, looking a little guilty. “Hey. Sorry. I - I needed a shower.”

Dean smiled. Sam’s damp hair was tousled, his cheeks rosy and he looked a little more alive.

Sam plucked at the t-shirt he was wearing. It was a little tight. “That’s my shirt.”

“Mine was all ripped up. I didn’t have anything to wear. I could-”

“It’s okay, Sam.” Dean set the bag of food down on the table. “Got some food. You hungry?” When Dean glanced down he noticed that Sam’s boots were on his feet.

“Ah.” Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I was gonna. Well, I need to get back to work.”

“How’s your head?”

“Hurts like hell.” Sam smiled grimly and shrugged his shoulders. “Thanks for bringing me here. I think. I guess I figure that ghoul must have hit me with something.”

Dean stared at Sam for a while then nodded as he set the food down on the table. “You know, Sam. I get that you don’t know me, but I can help you with… whatever you’re hunting.”

Looking a little stubborn, Sam looked down at the carpet then headed over to the chair where his jacket was. “I know this looked bad but I can handle myself, Dean. I’ve taken care of this kind of thing before.”

“This kind of thing?” Dean had no doubt that Sam was lying about something, he just wasn’t sure what.

“The, uh, ghouls.” Sam picked up his jacket and slipped it on. “I’ll be fine.”

“You weren’t fine yesterday.”

Sam turned and looked at Dean. “You don’t even _know_ me.”

Dean shrugged out of his own jacket and draped it over the back of the chair then sat down. He pulled the bag closer and looked inside before pulling out a wrapped burger. “All I know is that you got sliced open by something’ and got hit on the head. Doesn’t sound like a Ghoul?”

“I guess what I heard is right. You _are_ arrogant,” Sam said gruffly.

That caught in Dean’s craw. _Fuck_ , the only reason he was even trying to help was because he liked the look of Sam. The guy was young and he was in trouble. Hunters should help each other. But, Sam could go off and get himself killed if he wanted. “No need to be a dick about it. Don’t let the door hit you in the attitude on the way out.”

Dean kept his eyes on the burger as he unwrapped it but he could see out of the corner of his eye that Sam hadn’t moved.

The floor creaked under Sam’s feet as he shifted. “Okay. I’m gonna just walk back to my car.”

Staying silent, Dean nodded. He really wanted to tell Sam to fuck off, but he wasn’t even sure why it was annoying him so much. He just didn’t want the guy to get himself killed. Sadly, some people couldn’t be helped. Maybe, a few more knocks on the head would beat some sense into Sam.

The door opened and Sam hesitated for a heartbeat.

“Be careful,” Dean said despite his desire not to.

“You too.”

The door closed and Dean was back to the world he knew, the one in which he was a solitary hunter.

-=-=-=-

After a day spent making phone calls and hanging out at the small local Library, Dean knew he needed more information.

There were a few places the vamp’s nest could be. Dean had a system and he stuck to it. So, he suited up and drove to the nearest Sheriff's office to check the autopsy reports.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was dealing with vampires. the strange thing was that he couldn’t find the slightest sign that there were Ghouls in the area. There wasn’t a single report of missing bodies. There was nothing but a pile of evidence that Dean was right.

Sam, on the other hand, remained a mystery. A mystery that Dean had no business trying to solve.

So. He didn’t.

He sorted out what he needed to at the Sheriff's office, picked up a pizza then went back to the cabin.

As he pulled up he saw an old truck parked near his door. It wasn’t until he climbed out of the car that he saw Sam sitting on the steps in front of the cabin.

“Hey.” Dean slammed the car door and leaned back against it with a pizza box in his hands.

“Wow. You clean up good.” Sam stood and brushed some dirt off his jeans.

“What do you want, Sam?”

It was an interesting development to have Sam standing there. He was cleaned up. There was still a bruise at his temple but other than that, there was no sign that he’d had the shit kicked out of him a couple of days before.

“Don’t waste time on pleasantries, do you?” Sam smiled wryly as he walked down the stairs and stopped at the front of the car.

“Why are you here?” Maybe he was being a little hard on the guy but he deserved it. At least, Sam owed Dean some amusement.

Sam leaned against the hood of the Impala and peered sideways at Dean. “I’m sorry about the other day. I’ve taken a lot of shit from other hunters. New guy on the block and all.”

It was probably true. Hunters could be assholes when it came to new blood. “It’s not a problem.”

Dean nodded curtly and headed to the stairs. He was halfway up them when he saw a case of beer by the door.

“I brought beer,” Sam said cheerfully.

-=-=-=-

The cabin was a bit chilly so Dean started a fire in the small fireplace. It gave him time to watch Sam.

Sam put most of the beer into the small fridge, set two on the table then opened the pizza box on the table. “You seem to like meat.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder at Sam. “You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

When the fire looked like it would hold its own, Dean sat down at the table opposite Sam. He opened his beer and drank some before setting it down on the table. “How’s it going with the Ghouls?”

Sam had the decency to look a little _busted_ for an instant, then he smiled crookedly.

 _Dimples._ Dean had forgotten about them.

“Dean, I’m sorry about bein’ so bitchy. Like I said, I’m used to catching a lot of shit. I didn’t start out the best way. I asked too many questions.” Sam sat back in his chair, hands resting on the table.

“You came here to ask more questions?” Resisting the smile that was tugging at his cheeks, Dean dragged his thumb along his bottom lip.

“I came here to bring you beer, apologize. Hang out.” The smile on Sam’s face looked almost sly. “Is that okay?”

“Okay.” Dean grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite. Chewing would keep him from smiling a little while longer but he knew it was inevitable. Sam seemed to have that effect on him.

-=-=-=-

It took four beers, half the pizza and a couple hours worth of conversation for Dean to get to know a bit about Sam Wesson.

He was from South Dakota. He’d bought his truck so he could learn how to fix it up, which was admirable. He was a twenty-four-year-old computer nerd who didn’t know much about good movies or TV. He made up for it by being smart and having a really good sense of humor.

Dean liked Sam despite the fact that he didn’t really want to. But, he _was_ enjoying the night so it was one for the win column.

They moved to the couch when the pizza was finished. The stereo was playing _Radiohead_ because Sam had figured out how to hook up his phone to it. _Computer Nerd_. Add shitty taste in music to the list of things that Dean knew about Sam Wesson.

“You like hunting?” Sam asked. He kicked his feet up and set them on the coffee table.

“It’s a glamorous life.” The cabin was starting to warm up and Dean unbuttoned his dress shirt a bit. If he unbuttoned one more button because Sam was watching, well, the guy deserved it.

Pulling one leg up onto the couch, Sam twisted so he could look at Dean. “I mean it, do you enjoy what you do?”

“Some of it.” Dean picked at the label on his beer bottle. “There’s a lot of people walking around who wouldn’t be if I hadn’t helped them.“ There was truth in it but Dean was making it sound better than it was.

“There’s a lot of shitty stuff. You ever find that what you’re hunting isn’t as bad as you thought?”

“What?” The question was unexpected but Dean had been surprised by Sam more than once during the conversation. For someone who claimed to have been hunting for a while, there was a lot he didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” Sam muttered. “You always hunt by yourself?” Hair had fallen in front of Sam’s eyes again.

“Not always,” Dean answered smoothly. It was all about practice. Giving away too much information was never a good idea, especially when your last name was Winchester.

“Who taught you?” Sam was still sipping his beer in between questions but he’d slowed down.

“Is this an interview for a position?” Dean asked. He tugged the front of his dress shirt free from his trousers and sprawled his legs out. Might as well be comfortable if he was going to be interrogated.

All Sam did was laugh, and lower his gaze.

The hazel eyes settled on the opening at the neck of Dean’s shirt again. It wasn’t overtly obvious but Dean was pretty damned good at reading people. He rolled his shoulders back slightly. “Who’d _you_ learn from?”

Tilting his head slightly, Sam licked his lips. “Baptism by fire. Run-in with a vampire.”

“Must have been a shock if you’d never hunted before.”

“That’s an understatement.” Sam nodded and pressed his lips to the beer bottle.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, Dean had already figured out that Sam was a pretty thoughtful guy. Whatever he was trying to hide, Sam seemed pretty genuine. Maybe Dean was misreading it, maybe Sam was just trying to keep himself at a distance. It was always a good idea for a hunter to learn to be 100% self-reliant. Sam probably learned that lesson very quickly.

“You figure out what happened to you the other night? Was it a Ghoul that teed off on your head?” Dean asked. He couldn’t help it. Curiosity was his biggest character flaw; at least Dean thought that was the biggest one.

“I. Yeah. Just a mistake on my part. I underestimated how many there were.” Sam tugged at his t-shirt and shifted his ass on the sofa.

_Interesting._

“That’s weird. Usually, there’s only one, a couple at the most. You sure they’re Ghouls?” Dean studied the other hunter’s face but Sam was still hiding his thoughts behind his dimpled smile.

“Dean, stop talking shop. That _really_ can’t be the most interesting thing about you,” Sam teased. He stretched his arm along the back of the couch and his fingers brushed Dean’s forearm.

“You trying to distract me, Sam?” Distracting was one word for it. The instant those long fingers had brushed over Dean’s skin it had felt all sparky and warm. It had been a while since Dean had picked up a guy. But, another hunter often ended up in his bed. Why not? In a foxhole, anything could happen.

“Yes,” Sam said firmly. “Is it working? You’re way too attractive to only chat about work.” Sam’s fingers were making the fine hairs on Dean’s forearm stand up.

“Attractive, huh?” Flirting was something that Dean had always been good at. Even as a kid, he could remember women telling his father that Dean would be a _heartbreaker_ when he grew up.

“Yeah. I mean if I had to get knocked unconscious to meet you, then I’m okay with that.” The smile on Sam’s face softened. His cheeks were dusted with a red flush and his eyes had darkened.

It was at that very moment that Dean decided to _let_ himself be distracted by Sam. One evening couldn’t hurt. That was the theory Dean was going with.

“What’s on your mind, Sam?” When he looked up, Dean narrowed his gaze slightly. He made a point of wetting his bottom lip and was pleased when Sam’s gaze lingered on his mouth.

“Not work,” Sam said quietly.

“Think we’ve got that covered,” Dean pointed out. An evening of beer and pizza wasn’t really work related. There was enough pride in Dean’s soul that he wanted Sam to make the next move. Call it keeping the upper hand, call it ego, whatever.

Sam shifted a little closer and his hand moved further up Dean’s arm. His knuckle brushed Dean’s jaw. “I guess, I’m wonderin’ if you’re interested.”

“In you?”

“You’re just trying to make me suffer,” Sam answered quickly. His knuckle trailed a path down Dean’s neck then his hand landed heavy on Dean’s shoulder.

“Nothin’ wrong with enjoying the hunt, Sam.” Smiling, Dean tilted his head slightly so he could watch the flush creeping along Sam’s cheeks.

For a little while, Sam pressed his teeth into his bottom lip then he took a deep breath. “I think the hunting party was over before it started, Dean. I was waiting on your doorstep.”

“I’ll give you that one,” Dean said. Clearly, he wasn’t immune to Sam’s charm because the cabin was beginning to feel a bit too hot.

Dean shifted to the edge of the couch so he could set what was left of his beer bottle down on the coffee table. He rested his arms on his thighs and enjoyed the stretch in his back. What he enjoyed, even more, was the weight of Sam’s hand on his back. He slid it down Dean’s spine until the heel of his hand pressed against the tight muscles in the small of Dean’s back.

“You always this tight?”

Dean couldn’t help the side-eye he gave Sam. 

“Really?” Sam said. He chuckled. “Turn around. I… before all this I was a Sports Therapist.”

“Gonna give me a pep talk? Fitness motivation?” Dean was already _very_ motivated by the pressure and heat coming from Sam’s hand.

“Not that kind of therapy. The physical kind.” Sam shoved at Dean’s shoulder to get him to turn away. Then strong fingers worked at the muscles in Dean’s back and it felt _really_ good. Really? It was better than sex. Sam was fucking strong and the way he pressed his thumbs into the mat of Dean’s flesh made his body heat up. He let his head hang heavy between his shoulders.

“Good?”

Dean nodded.

“You’ve got a lot of scar tissue. You’ve been injured a lot,” Sam said. He adjusted his position again, slid one leg between Dean’s side and the back of the couch. His hands rubbed over Dean’s shirt, along his shoulders then down his arms.

“Comes with the territory.”

“The throbbing in my skull is an unpleasant reminder of that.” Chuckling, Sam moved his focus to the back of Dean’s neck.

The way Sam’s fingers pressed along the length of Dean’s spine was better than a cold beer after a long hunt. He could feel the tension bleeding out of his body. “Need to keep you around.”

Sam’s fingers hesitated for a heartbeat, then he continued to work his way down the center of Dean’s back. “Maybe you need to find yourself a wife, Winchester. Someone to come home to.”

“Tried that,” Dean answered gruffly. “Turns out it’s not-so-much my thing.” There were some things that Dean didn’t want to remember. Lisa and Ben? They had been a mistake. They were a mistake for _so_ many reasons.

“How come?” Sam had hold of Dean’s right arm and he was manipulating the shoulder joint.

“How do you come home from some normal job and eat dinner around a dining room table when you know what’s out here?” Dean could still remember the acidic burn of anxiety in his chest as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as he wondered what would come at them.

“You dislocated this?”

Nodding, Dean laughed. “Few times.”

“Should get it looked at by a surgeon.”

“ _That’s_ not gonna happen. You remember I’m a hunter, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sam was on the move again. He had shifted away from Dean and then he was pulling Dean down against him.

As he let himself be handled, Dean couldn’t help smiling. He liked the strength in Sam’s body. It was kind of a relief not to have to be the one in control of everything.

He found himself lying back against Sam’s chest; arms circled around him and dextrous fingers worked open the remaining buttons on Dean’s shirt. Sam pulled each side of the shirt and opened it up.

“You learn this maneuver in school?” Heat was crawling through Dean’s veins, heating up his skin like the late summer sun.

“I’m goin’ with the flow,” Sam said against Dean’s hair.

The rumble of Sam’s voice vibrated against Dean’s back and he felt his heart suck up a bit more blood. “Jesus.”

Sam’s laughter was low and just beside Dean’s ear and it made him shiver. “When was the last time you hooked up with someone?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Dean answered lazily. All those walls he reinforced to keep people at arm’s length were crumbling slowly. He was all for hooking up with someone at a bar, a little fast groping in the back seat or in someone else’s motel room. This was more unusual.

Warm, wet, heat ran up the back of Dean’s ear and icy-hot desire darted through his body. He tried to concentrate on breathing slowly, enjoying each wave of pleasure that ran through him.

Sam’s fingers pushed under the white cotton shirt and Dean couldn’t help the way his muscles jumped. It _had_ been a while, but there was something about Sam that felt a little risky, a little _tempting_. Possibly, it was the hunter’s sixth sense that told Dean something was being hidden. It made Sam even more intriguing.

Dean lifted an arm and curled it back so he could slide his fingers into Sam’s hair. It was long and silky, easy to grab hold of. When Dean grabbed a handful, Sam let out a gentle sigh. The heat of breath against Dean’s ear combined with the obvious interest of Sam’s body - that hard line against Dean's ass - was a promise he wanted to hold Sam too.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” Somehow, Sam had managed to get his mouth on the back of Dean’s neck. His lips scalded Dean’s skin and all kinds of filthy scenarios were blossoming to life in Dean’s mind.

“I’m already onboard. I don’t need the foreplay,” Dean said roughly. He felt like he was two steps behind where he wanted to be. He was used to things moving a little faster.

“Maybe I’m enjoying myself,” Sam murmured. His huge hand glided down over Dean’s belly and he worked the belt buckle open, the button, then the zipper on Dean’s pants. “Don’t be in such a rush.”

The complaint that was on the top of Dean’s tongue evaporated when Sam's fingers slid under his boxers. _Fuck._ That hand wrapped right around Dean’s aching shaft like a glove. Fingertips swept over the leaking head at the same time as teeth dragged down the side of Dean’s neck. All of that sensation at once set his heart to thundering in his chest.

All six feet whatever of Sam was hard against Dean’s back. He was lean muscles and long limbs and, for the first time ever, Dean felt as though he wouldn't have the upper hand. In some bizarre hollow of Dean’s brain, that was okay. It was more than okay, actually. It was really fucking hot.

When the tips of Sam’s fingers reached the sensitive skin stretched over Dean’s balls, the touch sent ripples of need arcing through Dean’s body. It was electric and a little unreal and Dean found himself thinking that he needed to get out more. Or - stay in with Sam more.

At that point, Dean’s lizard brain took over because Sam’s mouth had found his and he was like a pusher getting Dean hooked on the pleasure that was tearing through his body. It was amazing and a little terrifying all at once.

But, yeah. _Fuck._ Pleasure slipped down the furrow of Dean’s spine as he twisted around slightly. It was hot having Sam’s hands on him but he was torn. He really wanted to get _his_ hands on Sam. There was a whole lot of Sam pressed up against Dean’s back, but that wasn’t what he was interested in.

“Fuck,” Dean growled. “Enough already, let’s go to the bed.”

“Not very adventurous, are ya,” Sam murmured against Dean’s hair.

“Okay.” There was enough heat building up in Dean’s body to blow his head off and he really wanted things to move faster.

Scrambling to his feet, Dean adjusted his pants so the pressure across his hips was tolerable then he held out a hand to Sam and motioned with his fingers. “Come on.”

For a few moments, Sam just stared up at Dean with an amused expression on his face. And, it was damn hot.

Dean let his gaze move over Sam as though he could feel all of it: the sweat beaded on Sam’s forehead, the silky smooth strands of hair, the flushed skin on his neck. He was just lying there on the old sofa, legs sprawled wide open, one hand rubbing lazily over his tight abs.

“Get up,” Dean ordered in a low and steady voice. He’d run out of patience because he could taste Sam on his lips and he wanted more of it.

Very slowly, Sam shifted forwards and stood. he took a couple of steps forward then slid his hands around Dean’s waist.

The instant their bodies were pressed together, Dean’s balls began to ache. He wrestled Sam for control and finally managed to get them over to the bed.

Dean wanted to fuck Sam so badly he could taste it. _Fuck_ , maybe he could just taste the lingering flavor of Sam’s lips and that was just the right kind of flavor. He didn’t care, all he knew was that he hadn’t been so turned on in a very long time and he wanted to act on it.

Sam crossed his arms and grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt so he could pull it off over his head.

The curves of his muscles made Dean suck in a sharp breath. Sure, he’d seen it when he’d pulled Sam out of the alley, but being able to touch it was a whole other thing.

Dean shoved his pants the rest of the way off and stepped out of them, sat down on the edge of the mattress then watched as Sam stripped.

It was a little like watching the beginning of a porno except that Sam was _far_ hotter than any actor Dean had ever seen.

Sam moved slowly, deliberately, teasing Dean by drawing it out as much as he could. Whenever he could, Sam let his fingers dance over his own flesh, slid his palms over the edges of his muscles. It was all for Dean’s benefit.

After a hundred years, Sam was naked and standing between Dean’s legs.

“You are a tease,” Dean said. He wetted his lips as his eyes reluctantly left Sam’s hard cock and moved to his belly then to the long neck that led to his face.

“No, I’m just not in a rush, s’different.” Sam’s cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, his chest covered in a fine sheen of sweat. It made Dean wish that his brain could just capture the image like a camera. _God_ , he could look at Sam for days.

Enough looking. Dean let his hands follow the curves of Sam’s hips until he could grab the swell of his ass. Urging him closer, Dean let his lips follow the grooves of Sam’s abs. The salty taste of Sam’s flesh made Dean let out a low groan.

Sam shoved at Dean’s shoulders, slamming him back down onto the bed. He knelt between Dean’s legs and tried to roll him, but Dean shook his head with one eyebrow raised.

He’d never bottomed and _God_ he wanted to fuck Sam. At that moment it wasn’t negotiable.

Tilting his head slightly, Sam shifted until he was straddling Dean’s thighs. “Lube?”

Nodding, Dean reached out towards the nightstand. When he realized he couldn’t reach it, he pointed.

Sam leaned forward, cock sliding up the midline of Dean’s belly, opening the drawer and pulled out the lube. It only took a few seconds for him to slid a lube covered palm over Dean’s aching shaft. He knelt up higher, stretched lazily, _Fuck you, Sam. It’s all a show_. Eyes locked with Dean’s, Sam walked forwards on his knees until Dean’s cock was nestled against the crack of his ass.

There was no way Dean could make a coherent sound. His head was spinning and his blood was rushing through his veins. He let his palms press against Sam’s thighs, feeling the subtle movement of muscle beneath his skin. 

Sam shifted back slightly, angled his hips and reached down to circle long fingers around Dean’s cock. He pulled gently, sliding the over-sensitive head along his own shaft, over the swell of his balls and along his taint. 

By the time Dean could feel the pucker of Sam’s hole, he was barely breathing. Sam hadn’t even prepped himself and oddly enough, that made Dean feel like his entire body was vibrating. He looked up into Sam’s eyes and dug his fingers into the man’s thighs.

Just as Dean managed to suck in a breath, Sam sat back just enough to push the head of Dean’s cock into the heat of his ass. The pressure set off an ache in Dean’s balls and he had to pry one hand loose to grip the base of his cock.

With his eyes closed, Dean panted softly as he tried to get a hold of himself. His entire body was tense and he could feel the fever-hot flesh of Sam’s thighs trembling against his palm. It took all of his control to hold his hips still when what he really wanted to do was thrust up into the soft, warm flesh that was slowly enveloping his cock. 

“Sam.” There was a warning tone in Dean’s voice. He was completely focused on the huge man who was sliding down onto his cock. As painfully slow as it was, Dean was enjoying every moment of it. He just wasn’t sure he could last through the entire thing.

The expression on Sam’s face was almost blissful. His dark lashes were fanned out over his flushed cheeks. His muscular chest heaved slightly each time he sucked in a deep breath. His thighs trembled with the effort it was taking to hold himself up over Dean’s body.

It was an amazing sight and Dean couldn’t take his eyes off Sam. That was until Sam let out a quiet moan and sank the rest of the way down onto Dean’s aching cock. The heat was completely overwhelming and Dean held his breath for a few moments.

“Jesus,” Dean murmured. His hands settled on Sam’s waist, thumbs digging into the velvet smooth dip beside Sam’s hip bones.

“Wait,” Sam said in a strained voice. He slid one hand over Dean’s and wove their fingers together, the other hand swept across his forehead to move his hair.

Dean tried to make a noise that would communicate his agreement but the best he could manage was a moan.

The urge to thrust his hips up was like some crazy itch he couldn’t reach. He sucked in a deep breath then bit down on his bottom lip as he moved his hands slowly up Sam’s body.

Every single part of Sam was hard muscle under smooth, hot skin. The light dusting of hair that ran down the middle of his chest was soft against Dean’s palms. His thumbs found the hard peaks of Sam’s nipples and he pinched them, watching as Sam’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. His back arched gracefully and he leaned back, supporting himself by leaning on Dean’s thighs.

It completely caught Dean off guard when Sam lifted up and slid back down. The soft, slick, heat of Sam’s ass drew in all of Dean’s length and he nearly came. the glide and pressure of it was intoxicating. 

Dean tried to complain about Sam not giving him any warning, but he lost the ability to form words as Sam’s firm ass settled heavy against his balls.

Heart racing, Dean pressed a hand to the middle of Sam’s chest. He could feel the rise and fall of it as Sam breathed through the stretch he had to be feeling.

When their eyes locked, Dean felt a little thrill trip through his body. Damned if Sam didn’t already look like he was about to lose it. There was a wild glint in his eyes, sweat-damp strands of hair framed his face and his bottom lip was swollen where he had bitten down on it.

“God, Sam,” Dean almost whispered. He was entirely too close to saying things he was sure he would regret in the morning. But Sam just looked so fucking perfect, the way his entire body was curved back, his mostly hard cock bobbed slightly as he moved. It was a sight that Dean wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

A slight smile curved its way onto Sam’s lips and he began to rock his hips up and down slowly. He was strong as hell and flexible for a big guy.

Dean’s thoughts blew apart when Sam rocked back down onto his cock again. Shivers of pleasure rippled across Dean’s skin. And he finally let himself move, thrusting his hips up and burying his cock as deep as possible in Sam’s ass.

Everything finally began to move faster. Dean planted his feet on the bed and gripped Sam’s hips tightly. He thrust up again and moaned when Sam pressed down against him and crushed his balls under his firm ass. It was like some kind of crazy electricity was tearing through Dean’s veins.

Each time he thrust his hips up, Sam resisted just enough to let Dean’s cock inside him until the last moment. Then as Dean lowered his ass back to the bed, almost sliding free of Sam’s hole, Sam would slam back down onto his ass.

Again and again, their bodies moved in sync. Dean let his hands roam over the miles of honey colored flesh in front of him. He mapped out the cut of Sam’s muscles with his palms, let his finger trips bump over Sam’s ribs and never took his eyes off Sam’s face.

When Dean curled his fingers around Sam’s thick cock, he could feel how slick the head was with pre-come.

Letting his head fall back, Sam moaned loudly and angled his hips to slide his cock through Dean’s grasp.

“Fuck, Sam.” Dean groaned. His throat felt tight, his chest heavy with pleasure, and he thrust his hips up faster, fucking into Sam _hard_.

Sam moaned again and the guttural sound of it made Dean’s balls clench. His heart tried to beat right out of his fucking chest and all his muscles tightened up. His hips jerked shakily.

When Dean came, his entire body jerked up off the bed. The way his cock pulsed was painful; he could feel the clench of release in his balls. He could feel the hot, slick of his own come as he continued to thrust erratically.

Far too soon, the oversensitivity of his cock got to be too much and Dean sucked in a deep breath as he slipped free of Sam’s heat.

Sam fell forward and rolled off Dean’s body so he could press up against his side. His hand rubbed across Dean’s chest slowly. “You look _great_ ,” Sam said against Dean’s shoulder.

Dean ran his tongue over his lips as he looked down at Sam with bleary vision.

It had been a hell of a long time since he’d come so hard and so fast. Dean liked to pride himself on his ability to last longer than most guys but he didn’t have much of a chance with Sam.

Teeth nipped at the meat of Dean’s shoulder and Sam rocked his hips forward slowly to press his still-hard cock firmly against Dean’s thigh.

Still buzzing with pleasure, Dean lifted his eyebrows slightly. “Need some help?”

Sam shifted up so that he could press his lips to Dean’s cheek then he kissed his way to Dean’s ear. “Let me fuck you.”

Tingles skittered down Dean’s spine and he couldn’t help letting out a tight moan.

It had been a long time since Dean had been asked to bottom. Back in the day when he was always told he had a pretty face and cute freckles, he’d picked up a few guys who had wanted his ass. He had never given in, probably because he didn’t like the idea of giving up control.

But, those days were long over or, at least, that’s what Dean thought. He felt a dangerous thrill at the idea of Sam fucking him. It hadn’t been in his mind until Sam had slammed it down there and then the thought settled in and put down roots.

“So?” Sam’s breath was hot and tempting against Dean’s ear.

Dean’s skin came alive under Sam's’ hand as it slid down his side. His cock twitched weakly when that smooth palm reached the curve of his ass.

Lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, Dean turned his head so he could see Sam’s eyes. The thinnest ring of green and gold was visible around Sam’s dark pupils.

Blinking slowly, feeling the flood of desire, apprehension and that amazing sense of _knowing_ he was going to do something for the first time, Dean nodded once. He licked his lips and arched his back slightly.

Nails scraped over Dean’s ass and goose bumps appeared all down his leg. He heard the lube bottle, felt Sam shift and a cool wave of nerves seeped into his body.

“You’re gonna love this,” Sam said in a deep voice _right_ against Dean’s lips.

When a slick finger pressed against Dean’s hole, he bit down on Sam’s bottom lip and moaned.

-=-=-=-

When Dean opened his eyes, he squeezed them shut again quickly. Too much beer and… oh… yeah.

He moved slightly, a subtle twist of his spine just to check out how things were feeling. Yeah, his ass ached but, if memory served, the dull ache was well worth it. Sam was every bit as strong as Dean had thought he would be. There was a pleasant warmth creeping across Dean’s chest as flashes from the night before popped up then disappeared. It was a chopped-up film in his head.

Sam’s mouth had been greedy on his flesh. Their bodies, sweat-slick and over-heated, flush together as they moved uncontrollably. Dean groaned as he stored the memories away.

But, there was something off for a morning-after-the-night-before. He knew the feeling like hunters know there’s a full moon or a bad idea: Dean was alone.

He propped himself up on his elbows and squinted as he looked around the cabin. There was no sign that Sam had ever been there. Dean blew out a breath and collapsed back down onto the bed.

For a while, he just stared up at the ceiling. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure Sam out. He’d been free and clear the first time he’d left. Why come back?

Sure, there was chemistry. The previous night had definitely been full of that.

Dean ran his hand across his chest then looked down to see a bruise on his arm. The strength of Sam’s hand was damned incredible. Too bad Dean wasn’t going to get to experience it again.   
There would be no encore. A guy like Sam didn’t sneak out before the sun came up because he wanted to make a good impression and come back to revisit things.

Sighing, Dean tucked his hands behind his head and twisted his hips slightly. At least he’d gotten a workout.

A wistful smile slid onto Dean’s lips and he ran his tongue over them. He might be imagining it but he was pretty sure he could still taste Sam.

-=-=-=-

By the end of the day, Dean had crossed two more abandoned structures off his list. Musty, rotten wood, lots of overgrown roads and paths but no sign of the vamp’s who’d been snacking their way through half of the state. That meant there were only two spots left and Dean was pretty certain it would be the empty barn that was farther from town. No self-respecting vampire would hang out close enough to a town to get an uber.

Dean slid his tie from around his neck and unbuttoned his collar. He was _very_ tired of talking to people. The whole day had been an act from beginning to end. FBI, _yes Ma’am_ , flirting with a woman twice his age so she would let him in to see an old diary without a warrant. Another visit to the stuffy Sheriff’s office to confirm land titles. _God_ , he missed Jody sometimes. Other law enforcement Joe’s paled in comparison to her.

Dean slipped his dress shirt off and tossed it on the end of the bed. There was a nice, comfortable t-shirt in his duffle bag.

The phone in Dean’s back pocket buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket.

He slid his finger across the screen and unlocked the phone.

_**Unknown** : Hey, it’s Sam. You still in the cabin?_

Yet another interesting development. Clearly, Sam couldn’t make up his mind about whether he was coming or going. Dean’s lips twitched as he began to smile. It was his magnetic personality and perky nipples; that’s what it was. Sam found him irresistible.

Dean bit down on the side of his bottom lip and stared down at the text. His smile faded slightly. Sam… he was the kind of guy that Dean should really just put behind him. Some things were _too_ good to do more than once. It was when things became a habit that they became a weakness.

He tapped his finger against the side of the phone a few times, then finally touched the screen. 

_**Dean** : How’d you get my number?_

Dean hit send then tossed his phone on the bed. He toed his boots off and slipped out of the slacks that had felt a little too tight across his ass all damn day. He should probably eat a salad once in awhile. “Fuck, who am I kidding?”

Dean snatched his jeans up off the floor and stepped into them.

The phone binged again and Dean gave it a good dose of the side-eye. He really wasn’t sure if it was a very good idea for him to text Sam. Some entanglements were a nightmare.

Dean’s shoulders sagged and he let his head fall back and groaned. Why him?

He paced over to the bed with his jeans hanging loosely off his hips. He picked up the phone and added Sam as a contact then read the message.

_**Sam** : Got it off your phone before I left. I wasn’t 100% honest. Think I need your help with something._

At least Dean’s instincts weren’t wrong. “I knew it.”

_**Dean** : Why should I help you?_

For a while there was nothing and Dean was annoyed that he felt like a twelve-year-old girl.

_**Sam** : Because I think I’m hunting the same vampires you are._

It didn’t seem likely that it was a territory thing. Sam didn’t seem like he was _that_ kind of hunter. The guy may have had his secrets but he didn’t seem like he had a big ego.

_**Dean** : Then take off. I’ll deal with them._

_**Sam** : I already know where the nest is. There are too many for one person._

_**Dean** : I thought you said you’d heard of me. Don’t need help._

Feeling very pleased with himself, Dean set his phone down so that he could pull his t-shirt on. The soft cotton felt much better than the stiff dress shirt. Dean just was _not_ meant to dress up.

A knock on the door made Dean jump. He pulled his Colt from the shoulder holster that was hanging off the chair back. He headed over to the door silently and leaned in close to it. He couldn’t hear a damned thing.

“Dean, just hear me out.”

 _Sam._ The asshole must have parked his truck and walked because Dean hadn’t heard anything. That didn’t bode well.

“Dean, please?” There was a slightly desperate tone in Sam’s voice.

Dean took a deep breath and set his Colt down on the table so he could button his jeans. “Hold on.”

He picked up the gun and slipped it into the back of his jeans then pulled his t-shirt over it. When he unlocked the door, he just pulled it open and walked over to the fridge to grab himself a beer.

Sam’s boots sounded on the old wooden floor and he closed the door.

When Dean turned around he leaned back against the small kitchen counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “So, talk.”

Sam’s jaw was clenched tightly as he stared at Dean. For a few moments, he looked like he might change his mind then he took a hesitant step closer. “I probably deserve you bein’ pissed at me.”

“Yup.” It was a little unsettling to see Sam standing there again. It had been a lot easier for Dean to be stubborn when Sam wasn’t in front of him, a _lot_ easier.

“I thought I could handle this on my own. It’s taken me months to track him down. But, there are eight of them and now that I’ve seen him…” Sam shrugged a shoulder and closed his eyes for a few moments.

Frowning, Dean tilted his head slightly and studied Sam’s demeanor. He was a very different Sam than the one who’d been there the night before. “ _Who_ Sam? You’ve seen who?”

“My brother, Adam,” Sam said quietly. His words tripped over the grief that was clear in his voice.

Dean shook his head slightly and reached back to set his beer down. “They have your brother?”

Sam shook his head almost imperceptibly. “They turned him.”

That changed everything. Dean nodded once then bent down to get another beer out of the fridge. “You better have a drink.”

-=-=-=-


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had mixed feelings. All his alarm bells were going off. But, the look on Sam’s face really tugged at something buried deep in Dean’s chest. He _knew_ what it felt like to watch family change into a monster. Dean would _never_ forget the yellow, demon eyes replacing the familiar brown of his father’s.

Sam and his brother, Adam, younger by four years, had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happened, no one knew that better than someone with the last name Winchester. 

The vampires had stopped at a nightclub to feed. Dean had seen it before. A club was packed full of all the things that would draw them in: desperation, sweat, passion, frustration and a smattering of people who still thought drinking blood was sexy. A nightclub was a honey pot for creatures that preyed on humans.

Dean listened to Sam for an hour.

The two men had been at the club. Adam was out celebrating with friends and he’d wanted his older brother along. Adam was Sam’s half-brother and they hadn’t spent a lot of time together. Sam was in town to visit their father, so, of course he had gone out with his brother.

Adam had been dancing with his girlfriend and as Sam watched from the bar, a fight had broken out. There were people everywhere; glasses were broken, dancers were knocked flying, and then bodyguards shoved their way into the crowd. By the time Sam had figured out that Adam was in the middle of the melee, the fighters were being ushered outside.

The last time Sam had seen Adam, he was being shoved into the back of a white van. He was surrounded by pale-skinned beings, dressed in dark clothing with bared fangs. It was something right out of a horror movie. Sam had seen fangs sliding into the skin of his younger brother’s neck as the van disappeared down the alley.

And that was only the beginning.

“I hacked into the DMV. The van was stolen,” Sam continued. “I planted a fake BOLO and the van was recovered in a town about twenty miles from here.”

“And you came here to find him,” Dean said. He was sitting beside Sam on the couch, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah. I did some research found out what they were, and as much information as I could on how to kill them, how they survived, shit like that.”

Every part of Sam’s body looked tense. He was perched on the edge of the couch, white-knuckling the beer he’d barely touched. Confessions made people unsettled; it was instinctive.

“What happened the night I found you?” Dean asked. He had a feeling he knew but it seemed important to let Sam tell his tale. The guy was obviously carrying a lot of guilt around with him.

“I found one of them. I mean, their faces are seared in my fucking mind. I dream about those last few seconds when I could see Adam all the time. Only, in my dreams those seconds drag out for fucking ever.” Sam shook his head slowly then rubbed at his eyes.

“And you got into a throw-down with him.”

Sam nodded. “I mean, I’d read a lot about them being strong and fast. I guess I just thought that most of it was bullshit.”

“Can’t believe what you read on the internet,” Dean muttered. It was the reason Hunters managed to fly under the radar. Human beings didn’t want the supernatural to be real; not the bitey kind anyway.

There was a strange expression on Sam’s face. “Dean, I’m not a small guy. I take care of myself, I work out. I figured that I could get hold of the fucker, get him to tell me where Adam was.”

“But instead, you got beat to shit,” Dean interjected.

Sam scowled at Dean briefly then looked away. “I wouldn’t go that far. He just got the jump on me. Must have heard me coming. We struggled for a bit, I was in over my head. He slammed me against something and then it was lights out.”

Dean nodded. “So, why’d you come back here. You were away to the races, didn’t give away your secrets.”

As Sam drew in a slow, deep breath, his shoulders rose slightly and he shifted as though he was uncomfortable. “I needed to know how much you knew. I mean, if you were hunting them it would have been to my advantage to hang around.”

“Okay.” Dean frowned because something still wasn’t adding up. “Why not just tell me then? I could have helped you, or, at least let you know what I was doing.”

Sam turned to face Dean and stared into his eyes. “I didn’t lie about having heard about you. The hunters I’ve met, they say that you kill everything. You don’t make exceptions like some hunters do.”

Blinking a few times, Dean tried to run over everything in his mind. What if he had a brother who was in danger? Who would he trust? Maybe no one; maybe anyone who would listen. “You were worried about me killing Adam?”

“Wouldn’t you be? Fuck, Dean. I didn’t know then what had happened to him. Now, I do.”

“They turned him.”

“They did.” Sam set his beer down on the coffee table with a little too much force. “I found the nest. Went there during the day. There were eight of them, the ninth was Adam. He looks... all wrong. His skin is pale, but the veins look like they’ve been inked on his skin. Just... everything about him is _too_ perfect. I guess I knew what had happened right away but I didn’t want to believe it.”

Staying silent, Dean nodded once and set his own beer down.

“I can’t kill that many on my own,” Sam said quietly. “I need help. I need to get Adam out of there.”

“Wait, Sam. You’re a smart guy. If you’ve done all this research then you know there’s no way to _cure_ Adam, right?”

Sam rubbed at the stubble that covered the length of his strong jaw line. “I think I can reach him though. He won’t... he doesn’t have to live like the rest of them do.”

The conversation wasn’t heading in a good direction.

“I can reach him, I know it.”

“Sam, that’s _not_ how it works. You-”

“-I can. He’ll hear me. He still looks like himself, Dean. He’s still Adam somewhere inside.”

Dean shook his head slowly. He really _was_ familiar with the desperation that made people believe that _their_ family member would be different. Hunters encountered it all the time. The problem was that _evil_ monsters were unpredictable. There was no way to know if someone was still _in_ there like Sam was thinking. “And you want to go back and get him.”

“I know where the nest is. The place is like a drug den.” Sam’s brow furrowed and his lip curled in disgust.

There was nothing pleasant about a vamp’s nest. Dean hated them. They smelled like copper and fear, like death. They were always too silent, too dark, and too cold. It was just like stepping into a horror movie only far worse than anything Dean had ever seen on a fucking TV.

For some reason, Dean was worried about Sam. There was fear in his eyes and that was never a good sign.

“Sam, there are a hundred reasons for you to walk away from this now. Leave it to me to deal with.”

“No,” Sam said softly. “He’s all the family I have left. We were just getting to know each other. I have to try.”

“And if he isn’t-”

“I know,” Sam interrupted. When he looked up his eyes were glassy. “If he isn’t Adam anymore I will take care of it.” There was pain in Sam’s voice and he averted his gaze quickly.

What Dean _should_ do was tell Sam that he probably wouldn't be able to _take care of it_. Hunting wasn’t a new hobby you could pick up in a matter of months. When those fuckers had changed Adam, they’d changed Sam’s life too.

“I’ll go with you, Sam.” No, it wasn’t what Dean should be doing. Bobby would call him stupid and probably belt him up the side of the head.

“Yeah?” This time when Sam looked up, he looked more relieved than anything else. “I have money, weapons, whatever you need.”

That stung a little. “This isn’t about money.”

“Why then?”

“I really don’t know, Sam. Don’t make me think about it too much. I might change my mind.” Dean wasn’t _really_ lying. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was agreeing, he just felt that a _no_ would mean that Sam would walk out the door and Dean would never see him again. _That_ was the thing that he couldn't explain. Why did that matter?”

Sam stayed quiet, nodded, and picked up his beer again. His hand was shaking.

It wasn’t surprising that the guy was a bit of a wreck. Dean couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be dropped into the hunting world with no warning. Baptism by fire.

Dean reached out and slid his hand over Sam’s shoulder. He couldn’t figure out what to say so he just squeezed his fingers and studied Sam’s profile. Tension radiated off Sam’s body. He was so wound up he looked ready to snap.

“When?”

“Tomorrow, first daylight.”

“I need to find a place to get some sleep,” Sam murmured.

“Stay here, it’s fine.” It wasn’t like they had many reasons left to stay apart. Maybe, it was important for Sam to be with someone. Left to his own devices, he would probably spend the entire night anxious and pacing.

Sam rubbed at his eyes again, sighed and then reached out to rest his hand on Dean’s thigh. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Did you eat?” There wasn’t much Dean could offer Sam other than a few ways to distract him. That would have to do.

Sam shook his head.

“I’ve got some leftovers. I’ll get you somethin’.”

When Dean stood, he let his hand smooth over Sam’s hair. It wasn’t an easy road that Sam had chosen and now Dean was riding shotgun.

-=-=-=-

Dean kept an eye on Sam all evening, not that it would have been a hardship under different circumstances. He had managed to get Sam to eat half a sandwich, and drink a beer. It wasn’t exactly a well-balanced meal but it was better than nothing. They would need to be ready for anything in the morning.

It was midnight when Dean’s eyelids began to feel a little heavy. Sam was watching a really bad movie that he’d found in a box on the bookshelf. It was so old, the damned thing was a VHS tape. The beat up machine under the TV didn’t look like much but it worked fine.

Dean went over to the couch and sat on the arm. There were giant slugs on the screen that appeared to be attempting to eat a small poodle.

Frowning, Dean squinted at the TV. “Dude, what the hell are you watching?”

“I don’t even know,” Sam said grimly. He dragged his hand down his face and groaned. “They’re space slugs, I think.”

Dean couldn’t help laughing. “How do… nevermind. I don’t even want to know.”

The scene on the TV changed, a dark room and there was only just enough light left in the cabin for Dean to make out Sam’s face. He looked exhausted, there were shadows under his eyes and his gaze was distant.

“Sam?”

“Yeah.” Sam rubbed his eyes again.

“You should get some rest.”

“I know.”

Dean reached down and grabbed Sam’s hand. “Come on. Shut that shit off and come to bed.”

After fumbling with the remote, Sam finally managed to stop the movie. “You can just give me a blanket and I’ll sleep here.”

Dean huffed. “You don’t even fit on the damn couch. Besides, I want you to come to bed.”

Sam looked up at Dean and blinked slowly. Then he looked down at their hands. “Dean, I can’t-”

“-Sam, I’m not a complete asshole.” Dean stood and pulled Sam up off the couch. He decided to let Sam’s assumption slide. “Come and get some sleep. You need it.”

The smile on Sam’s face was slight, but it was there. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck to one side to crack it.

Dean headed over to the bed. He made a half-hearted attempt to straighten the sheets but it really didn’t matter. If he remembered correctly, Sam was a warm guy, they’d probably kick the covers off before the night was over.

By the time Dean had undressed and climbed into bed, Sam had turned off the TV and the lights. There was enough moonlight coming in the window that Dean could watch the other hunter moving around.

“You okay, Sam?” Dean got comfortable on his side, gaze following Sam as he moved.

“No.” Sam laughed dryly. “I feel kind of nauseous.”

Dean flipped the quilt back for Sam. “I would say that was normal but nothing about this should ever be considered normal.”

“I guess.” Sam sank down onto the edge of the bed and tugged his shirt off. He folded it, then set it on the nightstand.

“I’ve got your back.” There wasn’t much more Dean could offer. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make any empty promises. _Control_ over outcomes was one thing they definitely weren’t going to have.

“Thanks,” Sam said quietly. He stood again so that he could slip his jeans off. “You don’t think it’s gonna go well, do you.”

Dean tried not to sigh. “Sam, I have no fucking idea what’s gonna happen tomorrow. The whole thing is gonna be shit though.”

“I guess. I guess I just gotta try,” Sam said as he climbed into the bed. He pulled the covers up to his waist and tucked his hands behind his head.

“You do what you gotta do, Sam.” Dean would be there to do what _he_ had to do when things went south.

“You know,” Sam began. “I really meant it. Thank you. I know this probably goes against everything you usually do.”

“New situation. Can’t say I’ve ever dealt with this before.”

“And this?”

When Dean looked up, Sam was staring at the ceiling. “This?”

“You take a lot of other hunters to bed?”

“Only the hot ones,” Dead deadpanned. He was rewarded by a brief laugh from Sam.

“I’ll take that as a compliment then. Although, I’ve met a few hunters. They weren’t much competition.”

Dean rolled onto his side and rested his head on Sam’s arm. “Hey, there are some good ones. you just gotta know where to find ‘em.”

Sam curled his arm around Dean’s shoulders and drew him in closer.

Frowning, Dean slid his arm over Sam’s waist. “Just try not to dwell on it tonight. Sleep. You need to be as clear as you can tomorrow.”

Sam nodded and pressed his lips to Dean’s hair. It went on too long to be a kiss, it was more like Sam was just breathing him in.

Dean closed his eyes and let himself soak up Sam’s warmth. It was rare for him to fall asleep next to someone, but it felt good. It was a little slice of normal the night before a whole pile of insane.

-=-=-=-

Sunrise was at 5:17 am. Sam and Dean were outside the old dairy that doubled as a vamp’s nest as the sun creeped up over the horizon.

Sam looked nervous. The rigid set to Sam’s shoulders and the white-knuckle grip he had on his machete gave away how tense he was. Dean wouldn't normally be worried, but Sam was a bit of a wild card.

They hadn’t spoken much since they woke up. Well, Dean had woken up to find Sam lying on his back staring at the ceiling. He’d had the same tense look on his face that he had as he stared at the dairy when they’d arrived.

“Tell me the plan.” Dean had made Sam go over everything twice before they left the cabin. Once more couldn’t hurt.

“You take a quick look when we go in,” Sam answered quickly. He didn’t take his eyes off the Dairy. “You let me know which ones to take out first. I get two, you get three or four. If it’s going okay, you give me the signal and I’ll try to talk to Adam.”

The words were all there, all the right steps in the right order. but, Dean was still worried. There was something too quiet, too still about Sam. “Sam, look at me.”

Sam turned his head slowly until he met Dean’s gaze. “I’ve got it, Dean.”

Dean nodded. “I know, Sam. I just don’t want you to be surprised by anything. This could go South from the second that we get in there. You need to realize that.”

“I know. I’ve run through everything in my head. Most of it about a hundred times. I don’t think there’s anything that could happen inside that building that would be worse than what I’ve already come up with.” There was a fierce determination in Sam’s eyes.

The problem was that Dean didn’t think Sam was right. There was always shit that could surprise someone. Dean had been on too many hunts to count but there was still shit that knocked him back a few steps. It would always be like that. “I’ll have your back: no matter what.”

After a long pause, Sam nodded. “Ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

They moved slowly and deliberately through the brush and out onto the overgrown road that headed to the abandoned dairy. Even the slight crunching of their boots sounded deafening in Dean’s ears. But, after sunup, a vampire could sleep through a hell of a lot. They wouldn’t be able to come out into full on sunlight but once Sam and Dean were inside, all bets would be off.

When they reached the side door, Dean leaned back against the building and adjusted his grip on the machete.

Sam widened his stance and reached out to grip the door handle. He glanced back over at Dean.

When he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer, Dean nodded.

When Sam yanked the door open, the metal screeched as it pulled free of the frame letting out a cloud of musty, fetid air.

Blinking away the sting in his eyes, Dean started to breathe through his mouth. _Fuck,_ he hated vampires.

Dean rolled off the wall and into the door. He took in everything as quickly as he could. Sam had been right. There were nine of them. The three closest to the door had dark hair, one of them was a woman. Safe bet they weren’t Adam.

Dean pointed out two of the smaller vamps off to one side.

Sam nodded and took a deep breath before he headed towards them.

Much as he hated to do it, Dean tore his gaze away from Sam. He strode towards the first two vampires who were, conveniently, lying on a mattress together.

The machete swung down in a flashing arc and sliced cleanly through the first pale neck. The head thumped onto the wooden floor and Dean stepped over it smoothly. The machete sliced down again into the second neck and another head rolled away from it’s neck.

The dairy was coming to life and Dean threw a glance over his shoulder in time to see Sam whack his second. As soon as Sam moved on to search for Adam, Dean turned his attention back to a third vamp who had rolled out of a hammock. It staggered towards Dean. When the vamp snarled, Dean rolled his eyes; he couldn't help it.

The blade separated Mr. Snarly from his head and Dean pushed forward. He kicked the limp body aside and his eyes swept around for another target. There was a thump behind Dean. He glanced back and saw Sam panting as he stared at a body at his feet. “Move, Sam!”

There were two men heading towards Dean when he turned back around. “Let’s have a chat, fellas.”

“Fuck you,” the first vampire spat. “I’m gonna tear your heart out.” He launched himself at Dean.

Their bodies collided and the air was knocked out of Dean’s lungs. He grunted and swung the butt of the blade into the vamp’s temple. There was a sickening crunch and Dean lifted his knee to knock the body far enough away for him to slash the blade through its thick neck.

The seventh body hit the filthy floor and Dean faced the eighth vamp. He couldn’t hear Sam, but he wasn’t going to look away from his target. “Bring it, Dracula.”

The last vampire standing swung a surprise right hook and it connected with Dean’s jaw. For a few seconds there were little streaks of light whipping across Dean’s field of vision. He shook his head as he staggered to the side and managed to stay on his feet.

Dean used his momentum to keep twisting so that he could spin around and swing the machete. His forearm slammed into the rock-hard block made by the vamp’s arm. Dean grunted as pain shot up his arm.

He could hear Sam’s voice behind him but couldn't take his eyes off the asshole in front of him. They circled each other. The vamp’s dirty blonde hair was greasy, clinging to his face and neck. His eyes were dark and lifeless, like a shark’s.

Dean hated him.

When the vampire glanced towards where Sam had to be, Dean swung once more and connected. The blade glanced off the vamp’s collar and only sliced about half way through his neck.

Groaning in frustration, Dean kicked out and used leverage to pull the blade free so that he could slice in from the opposite side. Just like chopping down a tree.

Out of breath, Dean stood over the decapitated head panting. His arm was killing him and his jaw was aching. “Fuck you.”

Dean rubbed at his jaw then spun when he heard Sam’s voice.

“Come on, you _know_ me and you have to fight this. It’s like a disease,” Sam said breathlessly. He was walking backwards slowly.

Dean assumed it was Adam who was advancing on Sam.

“Please listen to me.” 

Adam was only a couple of inches shorter than Sam with short, dirty-blonde hair angular features on his face. But, his eyes were full of the familiar darkness and stood out on his sickly, pale skin. “Sam.”

Sam held up a shaking hand in Dean’s direction. “Adam? Do you remember the night they took you? You and I had a drink together at the old pub where Dad used to take us. Just you and me,” Sam said. There was a slight tremble in his voice.

“No,” Adam said flatly. “I don’t care, Sam. You don’t understand what this feels like.” He took a step closer to Sam, fangs bared, fingers curled into his palms in fists. He looked furious and unaffected in equal parts and it was pretty terrifying.

Dean moved forward slowly, gripping the machete tightly. “Sam, move away from him.”

“Dean, stay out of this,” Sam almost yelled.

A strange, mirthless smirk appears on Adam’s face and his fingers uncurled as he stepped forward again. “You never cared about me before, Sam. I wasn’t even on your radar. I wasn’t part of _your_ family. You were long gone. You were only back because Dad was dying.”

Hurt creased the features on Sam’s face and he retreated another step. “That’s not true, Adam. Dad had moved on from me long before he got ill. I wasn’t part of anything.”

The desperation in Sam’s voice was making Dean nervous. He wasn’t reaching Adam at all, the darkness relinquished none of its grip on Sam’s younger brother. Dean could see blood lining Adam’s teeth, crusting at the corners of his mouth. “Sam, he’s already fed.”

“Fed?” For a few moments, Sam stared over at Dean, eyes wide and confused. Then understanding settled on his features and he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Oh yes, Sam,” Adam said sharply. “And you can’t even _begin_ to know how amazing it is. It’s like a drug, makes everything brighter, clearer, almost perfect. What I was before, what you are now is _nothing_ compared to this.” Adam gestured to himself and his smile became almost blissful.

“Sam, _please_ come here,” Dean said quietly.

All Sam did was shake his head but his hands fell to his sides. He was trembling.

“Poor Sam,” Adam said darkly. “You can’t _save_ me, Sam. I don’t want to _be_ saved. I like this. I love what I’ve become.” Adam closed the distance between him and his brother.

Dean tensed, brought the machete back behind him slowly and inched forward.

“Adam, please,” Sam said softly. He leaned back slightly but held his ground.

“I think we’re through talking, Sam.” There was a glint of light in Adam’s eyes and then he let out a guttural growl.

Reflex and instinct launched Dean into action. He threw himself forward with enough force that he knocked the breath out of his lungs when he slammed into Sam’s side.

Adam’s stinking breath was cool and damp against Dean’s cheek, he could swear that he heard the snick of sharp teeth. He brought the machete up protectively and pressed it forwards into Adam’s throat.

The skin held on to the blade for a fraction of a second then it gave way and Dean felt a rush of cold blood on his hand.

“No!”

Sam’s yell was a sucker punch to Dean’s gut. He felt it like he was slicing into his own brother’s throat.

A weight slammed into Dean’s side and knocked him off balance. He landed hard on one knee and the white-hot pain made him collapse onto his side.

When Dean could focus his eyes again, he saw Sam kneeling at Adam’s side, hands gripping the bunched up material of his t-shirt. His face was screwed up with silent anguish, tears already leaving trails in the dirt and blood on his cheeks. He rocked forwards and cradled Adam’s shoulders in his arms.

Blood seeped out over Sam’s hands and began to soak into the front of his shirt.

“Sam, he was going to kill you,” Dean said softly. There was a pain in his chest that had fuck-all to do with the way he’d fallen. Sam was in pain and it was because of Dean. He should never have let him come along; he should have insisted that Sam stay at the motel.

Sam was hunched over his brother’s body, long arms wrapped tightly around it. His hair had fallen forward and was a veil that hid his expression. The only sound in the huge open space was Sam’s shaky breathing and the rhythmic dripping of blood onto the wooden floor.

Dean had no idea how long he lay there staring at Sam. All he knew was that there were pins and needles in his leg and his arm felt like lead. “Sam.”

No movement, no change in that shallow breathing.

“Sam, we need to get out of here.” Dean had left a can of gasoline outside in the brush. He needed to get the place burning and get rid of the evidence. He needed to get Sam back to the cabin.

When Sam looked up, his eyes were glassy and heavy lidded. “What?”

Shifting up into a painful crouch, Dean reached out slowly and grabbed Sam’s shoulder. “We need to get out of here. I need to torch the place.”

When he looked down, Sam seemed surprised by what he was holding. He let go slowly and settled Adam’s torso back down near his head. His hands settled on the blood soaked t-shirt and he smoothed it back down against Adam’s chest.

“Come on, Sam. I need to take you outside.” Dean tugged on Sam’s jacket until he got both of them standing.

-=-=-=-

I took Dean a hell of a long time to get the bodies in a pile and on fire. He didn’t intend for the entire place to burn but he wanted to get rid of the evidence. When he left the building, Sam was still sitting in the car, right where Dean had left him.

Dean’s arm was killing him, and his jaw was throbbing. The silence in the car was rattling him. He didn’t know what the hell to do for Sam. Grief - that was something Dean wasn’t so good at. All those big emotions left him feeling clueless and clumsy.

He sure as hell couldn’t just leave Sam somewhere on his own, so Dean drove back to the cabin. He didn’t know where else to go; there _was_ nowhere else for Sam to go as far as Dean knew.

When they finally made it back to the cabin, it was late afternoon and Sam still hadn’t said a word. The car seemed entirely too silent once Dean turned off the engine. He took a deep breath and all he could smell was smoke on his clothes from the fire. “Let’s go in, Sam.”

At the sound of Dean’s voice, Sam jumped. When he turned to look at Dean, he blinked a few ties, then nodded.

There was a chill in the cabin. It wasn’t a warm day. As soon as the door closed behind them, Dean found the cabin to be too full of… silence. That was most likely because Dean couldn’t think of a fucking thing to say. There were no words that would matter at all to Sam, at least Dean knew that much. “I’ll get the place warmed up.”

There was still a pile of wood near the fireplace and Dean built up a mini pyre before stuffing some newspaper in at the bottom. He flicked his lighter open and watched as flames ate up the paper. Satisfied that the fire would grow, Dean stood and rubbed at the bone-deep throbbing in his arm. He should probably ice it.

Dean turned to head to the fridge and found Sam still standing just inside the cabin door. “Sam?”

Sam looked over at Dean and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. “I don’t know what to do.”

Of course he didn’t. Everything was all fucked up. “Let’s get you settled on the couch.”

When Sam stayed still, Dean headed over to him and guided him to the old couch. Sam sat down willingly; he looked a little relieved. But, he kept his hands in his pockets and stared down at the carpet under his boots.

Dean fucking hated feeling helpless. It made his guts churn. He didn’t need to know Sam well to know how messed up he was. It was written all over his face. “Sam, what can I do?”

“You’ve done enough,” Sam said flatly.

It could have been a criticism. But, Dean chose to ignore it. He was all Sam had at the moment, so he would have to deal. They both would. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Whiskey seemed like a good choice so Dean poured two glasses and took them to the couch. He sat down beside Sam and held out one of the glasses.

Sam took it, drained it then set the empty glass down on the coffee table.

“You did what you could, Sam.” Maybe not the best statement in the world but the silence was killing Dean.

Sam shook his head slowly. “I didn’t get there in time.”

“You can’t look back over it like that,” Dean answered. “This was out of your hands from the get-go.”

“My _brother_ is dead.”

“He was dead from the moment they took him, Sam. I’ve seen this kind of thing before-”

“-you’ve seen someone’s brother die? You cut his head off?”

“Every guy is someone’s brother or son or something. You can’t think about that.” The second the words were hanging there in between them, Dean knew it was a huge mistake.

“No, _you_ can’t think about that, Dean. I can’t think about anything else.” Sam leaned forward and held his head in his hands.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean took a deep breath then set his still full glass down. He reached out his hand and hesitated just above Sam’s shoulder. Against his better judgment, he let his hand settle on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam’s shoulders slumped and he slid his hands back into his hair and gripped it tightly. “I can’t - I don’t know…”

As Sam’s voice faded away to nothing, Dean rubbed his hand across Sam’s broad shoulders. He could feel Sam’s body jerk then begin to tremble. The crying was almost silent, except for the occasional sniff. Sam’s hands stayed tangled in his hair but he leaned back slightly into Dean’s hand.

 _God_. Dean’s heart was breaking a little because he just wanted to make Sam feel… something else; less guilty, less hurt... something. He slid his hand further across Sam’s shoulders and tugged until Sam leaned into him. He wrapped both arms around the crying man and held on.

For a while, Sam just leaned against him, then he twisted on the couch and slid his arms around Dean’s waist.

Sam’s cheek was hot and damp against Dean’s t-shirt so he just held on.

-=-=-=-

Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was asleep, he’d been quiet for a while. Dean’s back was aching. All the springs in the sofa were messed up and it was probably the most uncomfortable thing he’d ever sat on. He wasn’t going to move though, not until Sam did. It felt like the one thing he could give Sam; the feeling that he wasn’t completely alone.

“What time is it?” Sam finally pushed himself up and leaned back beside Dean.

“Late afternoon.”

“Thanks,” Sam said.

“For what?” Dean really didn’t feel like he’d done a single thing that was worth being thanked for.

Maybe Sam didn’t know either because he just shrugged a shoulder and looked down at his hands. “What the fuck do I do now?”

There were so many times that Dean had been asked that question, usually by people he’d helped. Sam was different. He’d been a part of everything. He’d been _right_ there. He’d watched the life drain out of his brother, fuck, he’d walked away with blood all over his fucking hands. He _still_ had blood on him.

“Have a shower, I’ll get your bag out of your truck. Gimme the keys.”

Sam hesitated only _just_ long enough for Dean to notice then he reached into his pocket and pulled them out.

“Thanks,” he said again as he stood.

-=-=-=-

While Sam was in the shower, Dean got the bag out of the back of his truck. He opened the bathroom door long enough to drop the bag inside and let a cloud of steam escape. Hot showers were good medicine for most things; Dean knew that first hand.

Dean scrounged for leftover food and came up with a dinner for the two of them. There was half a pizza, some fries and a half a container of battered chicken balls from some Chinese place. Nothing was old enough to kill them so Dean threw it all in a dish and warmed it in the oven.

He changed out of his own soiled clothes and into some old, comfortable jeans and one of his favorite t-shirts. He wiped some of the blood spatters off his jacket and boots and did the same for Sam. Well, Sam’s jacket was a write-off, but Dean had another one he could give him if he needed it. It was a little big on Dean so it would probably fit Sam. 

Dean couldn’t help wishing that he had more to give Sam, something that would change everything but he had learned long ago that there were no big fixes. Not for losing family.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Yeah.” Dean spun around, more than a little startled. “You’re clean.”

“Yeah.” Sam swept damp hair back off his forehead and took a deep breath. He was wearing clean clothes and dropped his bag just outside the door..

“Must feel better.” _Better_ , there he went again with the stupid remarks.

“Yeah,” Sam said graciously.

Dean appreciated the generosity. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’ve got some dinner warmed up. You should eat.”

“Okay.” Sam seemed to be agreeing with everything.

Feeling awkward as hell again, Dean headed over to the oven, yanked the door open and reached in for the tray. When he had it about halfway out there was a sharp pain on his forearm and the tray fell onto the open door. “Shit.”

“You okay?” Sam asked from just behind Dean’s shoulder. He moved pretty quietly for a non-hunter.

“I - yeah. Just got my arm whacked pretty bad today.” Dean ran his hand over it gingerly. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have,” Sam answered. “Leave this, it’s gotta cool anyway. Let me see.”

Without being really aware of it, Dean slid his arm behind his back. “It’s fine, just bruised.”

Sam stood there with his hand held out and stubborn set to his shoulders.

Feeling a little foolish, Dean stood there for a few moments before pulling his arm out reluctantly.

Sam grasped Dean’s wrist in both of his hands. His thumbs worked their way up the midline of Dean’s forearm.

“Ow.”

“Don’t be a baby.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. It sounded a lot like Sam was teasing him. It was good.

“You got a big hematoma under there.” Sam’s fingers worked along the most tender spot on Dean’s arm. “Keep an eye on it.”

“Isn’t that just a fancy name for a bruise?”

“It’s more like a huge blood clot. Just keep an eye on it. I’ll check it later.”

“Let’s eat then. Grab the oven tray?”

Sam nodded but held on to Dean’s arm for a few more moments before letting go.

Dean grabbed a couple of cold beers from the counter and headed over to the table.

Sam set the tray down and sat opposite Dean.

“You ever cook?” Sam asked with a slight smile on his face.

“I try to avoid it these days.”

“No skill or too lazy?” Sam took a piece of the heated pizza and sniffed it before taking a bite.

“I can cook. Used to cook a lot when Dad and I were on the road together.” Dean picked up one of the chicken balls and bit it in half.

“Hunting?”

Still chewing, Dean nodded.

“How old were you when you started?”

“Pretty much my whole life.”

The slice of pizza Sam was holding paused halfway to his mouth. “You went to school though, right?”

“Kinda.” Dean chewed and swallowed another chicken ball. He hated talking about himself. But, at least Sam was distracted. “When we were in a town long enough, I went to school.”

“How do you _kind_ of go to school?”

“It wasn’t my thing,” Dean answered. “I’m a hell of a lot better at hunting. It makes sense to me. There was a lot of shit at school that _didn’t_ make sense to me.”

For a little while, Sam just seemed to be studying Dean. “Adam. He was telling the truth.”

“About?” Dean picked up a slice of pizza and bit into it. For some reason, he felt that Sam would be more inclined to keep talking if Dean didn’t seem to interested.

“I didn’t know him, not really. When my Dad and I drifted apart, I was better. I didn’t want to get to know his _new_ family.”

“But, you changed your mind?”

Sam set his pizza down and dragged his hand down his throat. “After Dad got sick… it was weird. It was like he changed… he finally seemed a bit more interested in my life. When I went to see him, Adam just seemed so pleased to see me and I guess. Well, I guess I thought I should get to know him because he was all that would be left of my family.”

Nodding, Dean set his own slice of pizza down. He knew what Sam was talking about. When his own father had died, there were no more Winchesters. Dean was it. If it weren’t for Bobby, there wouldn't be anyone that Dean felt connected to. It explained a lot. “So, what does Sam Wesson do now?”

Sam shrugged. “I have no fucking idea. Dad died after Adam was taken. There’s… just me.”

Dean nodded again. What the hell could he say that wouldn’t be completely stupid?

“How do I forget that all this shit exists in the world? I mean, vampires? _Jesus_ ,” Sam continued.

“You go back to your life and if you end up thinking about hunting, then you remember that there are people like me out here taking care of business.” It was the one thing that Dean would be certain of; he would continue to hunt, and he’d certainly consider it a good thing if that meant someone like Sam could go back to his normal life.

“I don’t know about that,” Sam said softly.

“I do. If you’ve got a regular job, and you’re good at it? You’re damn good at it by the way - you go back to it. You’ll make your own family.” That was how the world _should_ work for people like Sam.

“What if I can’t go back and just… act normal?”

“It’s early days, Sam. You’ve been through a lot. Don’t try and figure everything out tonight.” There were a lot of sleepless nights ahead of Sam. Dean had seen enough loss in his life to know that the wounds took a long time to heal. Sam’s were deep.

The two men were quiet for a while, then Dean cleared his throat. “You want to rest? Hang out here? Or you want to go into town and grab a drink?”

Blinking a few times, Sam looked a little puzzled then shook his head. “I. I don’t know. Maybe a walk. I don’t think I can sit still for long.”

The feeling was a familiar one to Dean. “There’s a hike around the lake, we could start and see how you feel.”

Sam looked grateful when he nodded.

-=-=-=-

They walked for hours. They were quiet at first. Their only accompaniment was the crunching of their boots and the wind slipping through the trees. It was about the most peaceful thing that Dean could remember for a very long time. It was good. Well, it was good except for the fact that Sam was hurting.

It was difficult to judge how Sam was feeling just by looking at him. He walked tall, long legs pacing forwards steadily. But, there was a constant furrow in his brow, a rigid set to his shoulders and his gaze was locked on the ground in front of his feet.

Dean left Sam to his thoughts. Hell, he was lost in his own. He couldn’t think of a thing to say to him that would make any difference. He felt as though the only tangible thing he had to offer was his company.

By the time they made it back to the cabin, the sun had crept down behind the mountains.

“Long day,” Dean said as he unlocked the cabin door and pushed it open. It was bizarre the way he’d come to think of the cabin as _home_. It was possible that having Sam around was part of it. Dean wasn’t used to the sound of someone else following him inside. He’d spent a lot of time, in a lot of places, in shitty Queen sized beds. The cabin was different.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. His voice was quiet, rough after an afternoon of virtual silence.

Dean rubbed his hands together as he kicked his boots off. Lost for what to say again, he headed over to the old couch and sank down onto it.

He watched as Sam lingered by the door for a while. Finally, he headed over to sit beside Dean and took a deep breath and blew it out through tight lips.

Dean tilted his head slightly so he could study Sam’s face. He was pale, there were dark circles under his eyes. The cuts and scratches on his face were beginning to scab over.

Sam had a half smile on his face when his game met Dean’s. “I just wish I’d known him better.”

Dean nodded. He had nothing to compare it to. The pain was crystal clear on Sam’s face. It was etched in the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Dean didn’t remember them being there before.

“I think I need to go home,” Sam said softly.

It was probably the best thing for Sam to do. Dean just wasn’t prepared for it to bother him. He wasn’t sure what it was about Sam, but he was good company. Even when he was grieving, hurt, more than a little lost, Dean liked having Sam near him. “Home is a damn good place.”

For a few moments, Sam looked into Dean’s eyes and frowned slightly, then his features relaxed and he smiled slightly. “Listen, Dean -”

“- ah don’t,” Dean interrupted. He really wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear Sam thank him for what had happened. Sam’s brother was dead, and Sam would be a hundred kinds of fucked up over it for a very long time. “I just wish…”

Sam nodded once and slid his long fingers over Dean’s thigh. He squeezed once then slid his palm up the denim slightly before withdrawing.

The stubble on Sam’s chin sounded raspy as he rubbed it. “I think. I’m just gonna start driving tonight. I’m wide awake, and I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

Nodding again, Dean breathed in slowly to try and fill up the strange emptiness that had appeared in his chest. “It’s fine if you want to stay here tonight.”

“I feel like I need to move, ya know? Put the stereo on, roll the windows down and drive a little too fast.” The smile on Sam’s face grew big enough that his dimples appeared.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I know that feelin’.” He did. A little bit of running away, but Sam had a destination. Sam had a home.

Leaning in quickly, Sam pressed a kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth. His lips lingered for a few moments, then he rested his forehead against Dean’s temple and slid his hand along the small of Dean’s back. “Thank you.”

Dean threaded his fingers through Sam’s and held on tighter than he wanted to. He shouldn’t be bothered by Sam leaving seeing as he could still count the time they’d been together in hours. Hell, he was probably just overtired. “You take care of yourself, Sam. Stay out of trouble.”

-=-=-=-

Dean had watched until the tail lights of Sam’s truck faded away into the night. He pulled the door open and stepped back into the cabin. It felt a hell of a lot more empty than it should have.

The beat up old rug was a little bunched up on the hardwood so Dean straightened it with his foot. He slid his hand back and forth over his hair a few times as he looked around.

That was the damn problem with meeting people and actually enjoying their company. Hunters were much better off living a solitary life.

Dean’s phone vibrated in his back pockets and he pulled it out.

_**Sam:** 2964 Kailsan ave. Clear Springs. If you ever pass through._

Tilting his head slightly, Dean smiled wryly at his phone. It was a great offer, trusting really, considering everything they had been through together. The offer _did_ release a bit of the knot of guilt in Dean’s stomach. Keeping the contact going with Sam though? Probably not the smartest thing Dean could do. No point in being rude though, Sam had been through enough.

_**Dean** : Thanks. Never know when I’ll be back in this neck of the woods._

Dean frowned and rubbed his thumb back and forth over his bottom lip. Regret nipped at his chest and he cleared his throat nervously. “Fuck.”

If only things were different. If Dean’s life was just slightly more sane, Sam would be just the kind of guy -

“- No! Don’t be stupid,” Dean muttered even as he couldn’t help berating himself for talking out loud. He’d been on his own too long to start going all Boo Radley over Sam.

The bing of Dean’s phone pulled him from his thoughts.

_**Sam:** Ok. Well. See ya._

For a little while, Dean ran his thumb back and forth on the locked screen of his phone. He finally pressed his thumb to the home button to unlock it, deleted Sam’s message then tossed his phone onto the old couch. If he threw it a little harder than he should have, well, maybe he was tired of having to pass up _good_ things.

-=-=-=-


	3. Chapter 3

The cabin had seemed strange once Sam was gone, so Dean had packed up and left the following morning. There was a haunting the next state over and Dean _really_ wanted to fight something. He drove three days for the satisfaction of blowing off some steam.

The spirit was holed up in an old barn. A dead farmer was pissed off that his kids had sold his land. He’d gone all Casper on the new owner’s ass. Of course, he’d been buried on the farmland in question.

The grave was shallow but that didn’t stop the ghost from attacking Dean; Nearly froze his fucking heart before Dean managed to shoot the asshole with rock salt. He dug faster after that.

But salting and burning old McDonald's bones wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Dean had hoped it would be. And that same evening he showered away the grave dirt, smoky residue and jerked off to his memories of Sam’s body under his hands. He came quickly and pressed his cheek to the cool tiles in motel room shower. He felt like shit and he didn’t like thinking about why he felt like shit.

After the ghost, there was a vampire, then a ghoul, a really fucked up woman in white and then a potential werewolf. The werewolf turned out to be a mountain lion that was wounded and hungry. Apparently, Dean could still make mistakes. He took every hunt he could find, it didn’t really matter how much substance there was to it and he didn’t pay much attention to which direction he was headed. It didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Things came to a head in a bar in some shitty, small town Dean couldn’t even remember the name of. _The Pit_ was a biker bar for the _Masters of Hell_. Not the dirtiest bike gang in the US but not squeaky clean either according to the internet.

Dean didn’t really give a shit. He wanted a good whisky and to be left alone. His experiences in the past had demonstrated that if he left the bikers alone then they would leave him alone.

That’s how everything _should_ have worked anyway.

Dean slid onto a barstool and ordered a Scotch. After the slightest hesitation, the bartender wiped his hands on his jeans and grabbed a bottle. He poured a shot in a mostly-clean glass and slid it across the bar to Dean.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered. He took a drink and licked his lips.

“You lost?”

When Dean looked up, he realized there was someone sitting on the stool next to his. “What?”

“You’re in my bar.” The biker was wearing a patched vest, the _Masters of Hell_ was emblazoned in a fiery font on the back of it. Trying really hard not to roll his eyes, Dean looked back down at his drink. “Look, Buddy. I just want a drink.”

“Bit of a miscalculation on your part,” the Biker said.

Dean wrapped his fingers around his glass and sighed. He read the road patch on the biker’s vest. “Listen, _Lenny_. I’m just gonna finish my Scotch and I’ll be on my way.”

“ I don’t think so, _Winchester_.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to Lenny’s just as they flicked to black. His grip on the glass relaxed as the rest of his body tensed. Fucking demons. “The Masters of Hell? Really?”

“Surprised you missed that one,” Lenny said with a sneer on his face.

“A little obvious, don’t you think?” Dean shifted back on the stool and pushed his jacket aside. His father’s demon blade was tucked into a holster on his belt.

“I’m gonna have fun with you.” Lenny laughed darkly.

“You and how many of your friends?” Dea’s heart began to beat stronger because adrenaline seeped into his veins. His fingers twitched against his thigh as he fought the urge to grab the hilt of his blade. Too soon and all bets would be against him.

“Oh, I’m keeping you all for myself. I mean, killing is a blast.” Lenny spun on his stool until he was facing Dean. “Killing a Winchester is gonna be awesome. I’m not sharing this score.”

“How the _hell_ do you know who I am anyway?” Dean took a moment to look around the bar as casually as he could. There didn’t appear to be anyone else interested in their discussion.

“Inside information,” Lenny murmured conspiratorially.

“Just let me finish my drink in peace, Lenny. And I’ll be on my way.” It wasn’t going to happen but Dean was still trying to buy himself a little advantage.

“Just like your daddy, Dean. Way too over-confident.”

“What the _fuck_ did you just say to me?”

A smirk flickered across the demon’s face moments before his hand snapped out and smacked into the back of Dean’s head with such force that his face slammed into the bar.

For a few seconds, Dean’s vision was all spots and smears of light. As he sat back up he shook his head and his vision began to clear.

“Lenny! Outside,” the bartender growled.

Dean found himself being yanked to his feet. The fight returned to his arms and he struggled to free himself from the hands that were holding him.

Demons were always strong. Dean couldn’t shake them off and he was feeling _stupid_ as hell. He really should have expected something. He _really_ should have. But, it was too late for that.

The night air was cool when it Dean’s face. “Just drop me at my car, fellas.”

A hand connected with Dean’s cheek and his ears began to ring.

Lenny stepped slightly ahead of Dean and pulled him around to a dark alley. He was slammed back against a cold, damp, brick wall and the breath rushed out of his lungs. “Stop playin’ around and get on with it.”

“You’re awfully mouthy for a guy who’s covered in blood and about to get his ticket punched,” Lenny spat.

Bleeding? That explained the throbbing headache that was drilling into Dean’s forehead. He blinked slowly and realized that he could feel a wet warmth creeping from his forehead down over his cheek. “What can I say? I’m an optimist.”

Dean did a quick inventory. His gun was digging into his back, there was no way he could reach it. The dagger at his hip, on the other hand, was close. If Dean could just get them to let go of him for a moment.

“That’s a damn shame, Winchester. ‘Cause where you’re goin’? There’s nothin’ for you to be optimistic about.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Dean said as he smirked. He licked his lips and tasted the coppery tang of blood. There was a strange buzzing growing louder in his ears and Dean knew. He needed to do something. He tried to focus on Lenny and his cohort. They each had hold of one of Dean’s arms, their grips were so tight that Dean could feel the thumping of his pulse under their grip.

Lenny laughed and leaned back slightly.

That was Dean’s moment. He flicked his gaze to the side as though he had seen someone and was relieved to see Lenny turn slightly.

Dean twisted his arm free, snatched his dagger from its holster and swung it back up to jam into the side of Lenny’s neck. Light flashed as the blade’s magic attacked the demon who was riding Lenny. A thick worm of black smoke curled out of Lenny’s mouth.

Pain sliced through Dean’s chest as the second demon’s knee connected with his rib cage. He was sure he felt something snap and his breathing stuttered as he gasped for air.

Lenny’s grip finally slid off of Dean’s arm and he was able to swing the dagger in the direction of the second demon.

Another coil of black smoke appeared and Dean suddenly found himself free. He stumbled forwards, tripped over a splayed set of legs and moved as fast as he could towards the main road.

His head was reeling and each breath sent pain stabbing its way across Dean’s chest.

As the pain threatened Dean’s consciousness, he slowed his pace and closed his eyes for a few moments. He just had to get to the car. When he opened his eyes again, he managed to focus on the road in front of him, spotted the car and began to stumble towards it.

By the time he reached the Impala he could feel a cold sweat prickling on his arms and his lower back. He really needed to get in the car where there was warding … and get … somewhere.

He managed to shove his hands into his jacket pocket and retrieve his keys but for a handful of infuriating seconds, every attempt Dean made to hit the door lock failed. The keys jangled in his trembling fingers and Dean groaned then finally managed to unlock the door.

When he yanked the door open, his chest muscles clenched as pain ricocheted back and forth in his rib cage. “Jesus Christ.”

It was getting harder and harder for Dean to breathe. He moved gingerly as he slid down onto the front seat. It took most of his remaining energy to yank the door shut and lock it. When he looked around, he gasped for air. The street light glinted on the screen of Dean’s phone and he reached out for it. Pain cut off his breathing and his vision faded away at the edges.

Panic was starting to dig its filthy nails into Dean’s spine. He reached out for the phone again, slower, more carefully and he managed to get hold of it. He unlocked the screen and managed to open the contacts. He hesitated a moment, then tapped Sam’s name. He started a text message and then hit the icon to record his voice “Sam, I need help. I’m - well - I'm a big fucked up.”

Dean was panting shallowly, eyes clenched tightly closed. “I - could you help? I don’t… I’ll send my location.”

Dean sent the message and then his location. The hand holding the phone fell heavily to the seat beside him and Dean slumped to the side.

His phone beeped and Dean simply wiped at something wet on his face. His vision began to fade as his phone rang and Dean’s fingers twitched on the seat.

The last thing he was aware of was the sound of rain on the roof of the Impala.

-=-=-=-

There was a heavy warmth on Dean’s shoulder. He felt a little chilled but then felt something warm and soft slid over him. It felt good… so he stopped trying to open his eyes. He couldn’t help just disappearing down into the darkness that felt safe and comfortable.

-=-=-=-

Dean was sure he heard his name. The voice was vaguely familiar and Dean turned his head slightly without opening his eyes.

“Dean? How you doing?”

Sam? A little confused, Dean tried to open his eyes open. Everything seemed a little too bright as Dean’s eyelids cracked open. It felt as though someone had glued his eyes closed while he was sleeping.

“Hey, good to see ya,” Sam said. He was bent over Dean, his hair tousled and hanging in front of his eyes a little.

Dean tried to say something but someone had filled his throat up with gravel. He coughed and pain cut into his side like a red-hot knIfe slicing into him.

“Whoa, whoa. Here,” Sam said softly. His face disappeared for a few moments then he was back and pressing the mouth of a bottle to Dean’s lips.

The water was cool and soothing. Dean swallowed three or four times before Sam took the bottle away. “Easy.”

When Dean tried to take a deep breath, it felt like there was a steel band around his chest.

“I think you broke a rib. That’s what it feels like anyway.”

Dean managed to make a weak sound that Sam seemed to interpret agreement. His chest hurt every time he took a breath but his lungs seemed okay. Things felt a little fuzzy around the edges and Dean’s tongue felt dry when he tried to clear his throat.

“I gave you some pain killers. You’ve been out for a few days. Your got hit on the head pretty good.” Sam smiled slightly, even though his brow was furrowed with concern.

“Mmmm.” Dean attempted to sit up but the cut of pain across his torso stopped him instantly. “Fuck.”

“I _did_ warn you,” Sam said gently. Very carefully, he slid a hand behind Dean’s shoulder and lifted him enough to slip another pillow beneath his upper body. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Blinking slowly, Dean looked around. He was in a bedroom that he’d never seen before. He squinted into the sunlight that was streaming in through a large window and things around him began to solidify. When he could finally relax his eyes a little he took in the hardwood floor, and dark brown walls. “Where am I?”

Sitting back, Sam smiled. “My place.”

 _Right._ Dean remember calling Sam after the demons… after… “My car!”

“Relax,” Sam said quickly. “I drove your car back here. Left my truck. It was a piece of shit anyway. No one would bother stealing it.”

Blowing out a slow breath, Dean felt relief wash over him. When he glanced up at Sam, he smiled as much as he was able. “Thanks.”

Sam shrugged. “Was gonna get a new truck any-”

“- No. _Thank_ you. For …” Lifting his hand slightly, Dean gestured towards himself.

“You’d do the same. You _did_ the same thing.” Sam squeezed Dean’s shoulder gently.

“Hey, how’d you get in the car?” Dean’s memory was pretty muddled but he was sure he had locked himself in.

Sam pressed his lips together for a few seconds. “Coat hanger? I’ve used it on my truck before.”

Dean blinked a few times, pondering how much paint would have been scratched off his baby. He really couldn’t say much though, when it came down to it, Sam had yanked his ass out of a nasty situation.

“Don’t worry,” Sam said warmly. “Didn’t put a single scratch on your prized possession.”

Nodding, Dean looked down so that Sam wouldn’t see the slight smile on his lips. 

“You need anything?”

Dean looked down at his hands then let them fall to his belly. His bladder ached and he shifted his legs restlessly. “I gotta piss.”

Sam reached down beside the bed and picked up an opaque bottle with a handle on it. It took Dean’s brain a few moments to shift into gear. ‘Oh no. _No._. I’m not. You’re not. Wait … did you?”

A pink flush dusted it’s way across Sam’s cheekbones. “You were delirious, and every time you tried to get up, you passed out!”

“I’m _sure_ I’ll be fine now.” Dean propped himself up on his elbows then groaned through gritted teeth. The pain was blinding.

“Jesus.” Panting shallowly, Dean managed to hold himself still.

“Just stay there and use the -”

“- dignity, Sam.” Sweat was already prickling on Dean’s forehead and waves of nausea were making him feel a bit dizzy. But, fuck, he was not going to piss in a bottle that Sam would have to hold.

“This is ridiculous.” Even though he protested, Sam slid a strong arm along Dean’s shoulders and took some of his body weight.

“All part of my charm,” Dean said through gritted teeth. The bedroom door looked about a million miles away. “Let’s do this.”

-=-=-=-

It took a few days for Dean to be able to move enough to see the rest of Sam’s house. Oddly enough, Dean liked it. It was nothing like he’d expected. The house was a small, single-level rancher, on the outskirts of town. Sam went up in Dean’s estimation the first time he made it outside and discovered the Impala parked in the garage.

When Dean made it as far as the living room, he discovered a few things about Sam. He had a great TV, good taste in music and he’d been sleeping on the couch.

“That’s stupid,” Dean muttered when he saw the blankets on the _much_ shorter than six foot long couch.

“I didn’t want to hurt you … or …”

“Or what? I know I’m pretty irresistible but you don’t seem the type to take advantage.” Dean hid his grin by looking down at his feet.

“What? No!” Clearly flustered, Sam wandered over and sat down beside Dean. “I didn’t want to assume anything.”

When Dean looked up, he couldn’t help smiling at Sam. The flush was back on his cheeks and his gaze was intense. “Sam. I’m just kidding. Just… don’t sleep out here. You’ll fuck yourself up trying to cram all of you onto that couch.”

Nodding, Sam seemed to relax a little and leaned back into the couch cushions. “Few more days, you should be good to go.”

“I’m good now, Sam. Trust me. I’ve had far worse.” When Sam’s expression changed, Dean felt a little bad. “I don’t usually have someone looking after me. Well, there’s Bobby but he’s grumpy as fuck and no way is he as good lookin’ as you.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Dean said quickly. “Just comparing the two of you gave me a no feeling.” Dean shuddered and leaned back so his shoulder was pressed to Sam’s. “Thanks again, Sam. Really.”

“You’ve thanked me enough, Dean. I - well, I’ve enjoyed having you around... which makes me sound lame.”

“It does,” Dean agreed as his smile broadened. He patted Sam’s thigh then left his hand there. He liked the feel of hard muscles under his palm.

“Having company made being back here, trying to be normal, a little easier. _You_ are a _great_ distraction, Dean.” As Sam smiled, he casually let his gaze trail down Dean’s chest then back up to his eyes.

“You’re objectifying an injured man,” Dean deadpanned even as a crazy kind of warmth blossomed in his chest.

All Sam did was laugh and the sound made Dean’s smile grow into a grin. He loved the sound and realized that he wouldn’t mind hearing it a lot more often.

“So, you’ll be leaving soon?” After a few moments of silence, Sam slid his hand over Dean’s. Their fingers curled together into Dean’s palm.

“I guess.” Dean sighed. There were already a couple of cases for him to check out. But, for the first time in years, Dean felt more of a desire to stay put than to move on. It was strange; having Sam around made Dean feel a little more calm, less frayed around the edges. The whole world felt a little less frenzied than is usually did.

“You got quiet.” Sam shifted slightly, gaze seeking out Dean’s.

Shrugging, Dean looked at Sam for a moment then looked away. “Just not looking forward to goin’ back to the grind.”

“You can stay as long as you want,” Sam said easily.

A little squeeze of Dean’s heart took his breath away for a couple of seconds. But, he knew it was just one of those things people say. “You’ve been great. I bet you’d like life to go back to normal.”

“I called a local practice. I’m going to meet with them about a PT position.”

“That's great, Sam. You shouldn’t be hunting anyway” Dean said. It sounded a little more bitter than he’d intended. It wasn’t that he begrudged Sam the choice, there was just a part of him that wanted them to be on more equal footing. If he and Sam had the same kind of life, maybe they could even hook up every now and again.

“Hey, I meant what I said. I’m not asking you to play house. I’m telling you that I would like it if you stayed here for a few days. Get better. And, when you’re in the area…” Sam blinked a few times, chewing on the side of his bottom lip.

“When I’m in the area?” Dean’s eyebrows lifted slightly and he tightened his grip on Sam’s hand.

“You stay here. You stay with me.”

“You don’t even know me, Sam.” It was Dean’s go-to answer when it came to relationships of any kind. Why would someone want to get to know him? He practically lived in his car, he rarely made money legally, he was busted up all the time and he’d never even rented his own apartment. Yeah. He was a catch alright.

“I know a little about you. The important things. You’re a good man. You don’t snore,” Sam teased.

The attempt at lightheartedness was lost on Dean. He didn’t want to set himself up for something to just fall apart. “Trust me, as soon as people are around me enough, I annoy them. Ask Bobby sometime.”

“You do that a lot,” Sam said.

“What?”

“Talk about yourself like you’re not worth anyone’s time. Like you don’t believe that anyone would want to spend time with you.”

“It’s the hunter thing, Sam. You’ve probably noticed, it’s not the best lifestyle.” Dean was getting a little worn. He just wanted to go back and lie down in Sam’s huge bed and forget about reality for a little while longer.

“Well, the invitation stands.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Sam said quietly. “You tired? You were up all day today. Gonna have to put you to work around here if you keep doing that.” There was a smile in Sam’s voice.

Dean tried to smile but he could tell it wasn't very successful judging by the look on Sam’s face. “Yeah, I think today’s catchin’ up with me.”

“You get settled. I’m gonna put the dishes away.”

Sam let go of Dean’s hand as he stood, smiled slightly then disappeared into the kitchen.

-=-=-=-

The bed felt good when Dean lowered himself into it. At some point during the day, Sam had changed the sheets. They were crisp and fresh smelling and Dean nestled down into the bed like he was in some kind of cocoon.

Settling on his uninjured side, Dean stared out the window. It was late enough the stars were visible over the trees in Sam’s front yard.

He heard Sam come into the bedroom and smiled into the pillow.

“Hey.” The mattress moved slightly under Dean as Sam climbed into bed.

For a few brief moments, Dean thought about pretending to be asleep, he wasn’t even sure why. Then he could feel the heat of Sam's body lingering near his back. “Hey.”

“How’re the ribs?”

“Okay. Doesn’t hurt as much now. As long as I don’t get thrown across a room or anything.”

“And I was looking forward to that,” Sam said behind Dean’s shoulder.

Dean chuckled softly and the vague ache in his rib cage niggled away at his happiness. It was a constant reminder of what he had to return to. You didn’t get broken ribs when you worked as a physiotherapist like Sam did.

“What are you thinking about?” Sam asked. He shifted a little closer and Dean could feel warm breath at the nape of his neck.

“Going back to work.” Why lie? The more he talked about it, the easier it was to ignore the fact that he liked the way it felt to have Sam lying right behind him.

“D’you ever stop thinkin’ about hunting?”

“Generally, when I’m sleeping or fucking.”

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I, Sam” Dean said quietly. “Sometimes, I think about a part I need for the car, food. There’s not much else in my life to worry about.”

“That doesn’t sound all that good.”

“I have a glamorous life.”

“Fine, I give up. You obviously don’t want to have a real conversation.”

Dean could hear a little bit of amusement in Sam’s voice so he figured maybe Sam didn’t want a serious discussion all that much.

“How you feelin’?”

“Okay,” Dean said. He resisted the urge to lean back into the hard body that he knew was just a hair’s breadth away. “I mean it fuckin’ sucks, but, honestly, better.”

“You need to take it easy for a while.” Sam sniffed and shifted close enough to press up against Dean’s back.

“Sam, I’ve messed up my ribs before. Couple more days and I’ll be road-worthy again.” Something in Dean’s side twinged as though it begged to differ.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me, you know.”

“Not tryin’ to. That’s just the truth. Sooner I get back in the saddle, the better,” Dean answered gruffly. He was torn between the intense warmth of Sam’s body and the desire to move past the conversation.

“Right.”

Dean felt Sam’s body stiffen slightly. He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t want to talk about… well, anything to do with whatever it was that was going on between them. But, the change in Sam was palpable, Dean could feel tension radiating off the man’s body. “Sam, you know this isn’t about you, right?”

“No. It’s about you.”

The hard edge in Sam’s voice surprised Dean. “Sam?”

“Look Dean.” The mattress moved as Sam shifted away. “We barely know each other, I get that. But you are hurt. Is it really so terrible to imagine spending a few days here?”

Frowning, Dean rolled onto his back as carefully as he could. That was _exactly_ the problem. He turned his head so he could study Sam’s expression. The _problem_ was the way all that shaggy hair, that pointed nose and crazy-colored slanted eyes looked. It was about the way that Sam cared, the way he already knew how Dean took his coffee and that he preferred bacon to sausage. It was the stupid, tantalizing possibility that Sam represented: the idea that there was some other kind of life out there that Dean could have.

When Sam turned to look at him, Dean looked away. “I like you, Sam. And that… it's not good.”

“It’s not?” Sam rolled back onto his side, hand sliding over Dean’s hip and settling on his belly.

When Dean swallowed, his throat felt tight and sore. “It hasn't been very long since…”

Tilting his head slightly, Sam frowned as his expression darkened. “Since … _what_ exactly?”

It was a shitty thing Dean was about to say; he knew that. But, every little bit of distance he could jam between them seemed like a good defensive strategy. “Since you lost Adam. Trying to fix me? Not gonna bring him back.”

Yeah. The hurt on Sam’s face was pretty much what Dean had expected. He had good aim when it came down to it.

After a few moments, Sam withdrew his hand slowly. “You’re not a project, Dean.”

Pressing his lips together, Dean met Sam’s gaze. “I’m just calling a spade a spade, Sam.”

“You remember that _you_ called _me_ , right?” The edge was still sharp in Sam’s voice and Dean’s stomach ached a little. The mattress shook again and then the quilt was swept back and cool air smoothed over Dean’s chest.

“Sam?”

“I changed my mind. You’ll be more comfortable by yourself in here.”

“C’mon, Sam. It’s your bed.” It was a little surprising how quickly Dean started to feel like shit the moment he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do.

Sam’s back was stiff where he sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve got some reading to do. Gotta catch up. It’s fine.”

When Sam stood, he hesitated for a beat before heading towards the bedroom door. “Night, Dean.”

Staring at the ceiling again, Dean reached up and dragged his hand down his face. It was the right thing to do; keeping Sam at arm’s length. It was selfish to have called him in the first place. Dean would really have to invest some time in figuring out why the hell that was his first instinct.

The light in the hallway flicked off and Dean heard Sam moving away. He really needed to get back on his feet and get out of there. The sooner, the better.

-=-=-=-

The next few days were pretty uneventful. Sam made himself scarce most of the time. He was usually gone before Dean woke up. The only sign that he’d been there was the ever-present pot of coffee in the kitchen.

They ate dinner together and the conversation every night was stilted, at best. Yup. Dean had gotten exactly what he wanted and he really didn’t like it. Actually, it felt like crap.

Even if Dean tried to just have a normal conversation with Sam, he’d get a few sentences then Sam would find a reason to leave the room. Knowing that Sam was in the house and avoiding him made Dean feel even lonelier than he had ever felt in all the crappy motel rooms he’d stayed in.

But, it was for the best. At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself when he found he was fighting the urge to go and apologize to Sam.

By the time a week had passed, Dean could tell he was healed well enough to get back on the road. It was likely that his ribs were cracked and not broken.

Closer to a month than Dean really wanted to admit, he figured it was time to get back to work. Bobby was getting crankier every time he spoke to Dean, Sam had returned to work as a physiotherapist, and Dean’s ribs felt okay ninety-five per cent of the time. All the monsters and ghosts were waiting for Dean to slip back behind the wheel.

Once Sam had left for work one Monday morning, Dean had packed his clean clothes back into his duffel. He slipped his father’s journal in between two books Sam had given him, left out a t-shirt of Sam’s he’d been wearing and got rid of some old research papers.

The afternoon passed quickly once Dean opened the trunk of the Impala. He cleaned his Colt, oiled some knives and checked on his supplies. The routine of all the preparation fit like a glove and Dean could feel his focus narrowing back down to hunting.

He’d probably been in the garage for a couple of hours when he heard Sam open the side door.

“So, you’re leaving then.”

Hands clenched into fists at his sides, Dean closed his eyes for a few moments before turning to smile at Sam. “Hey, how was work?”

Sam was backlit where he stood in the open door. His face was hidden in shade but Dean recognized the set of Sam’s shoulders, his narrow hips, long legs. He wished he could see Sam’s face. 

“Were you going to say good-bye?” There was a waver in Sam’s voice that made Dean’s guts twist into a knot. 

“Of course. I’m not gone, am I?”

“Nah, you’ve just got busted before you left.” Sam walked into the garage and hesitated briefly at Dean’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Dean.”

Just as Dean turned to reach out for Sam’s hand, he ended up staring at the space between Sam’s shoulder blades as he disappeared into the house. Dean groaned and let his head hang heavy between his shoulders. “Well, that went well.”

Something slammed inside the house and Dean flinched. He took a deep breath and headed inside to find Sam. He knew he needed to leave but he had never wanted to leave with bad blood between him and Sam.

Dean wandered through the house to the kitchen and leaned against the living room doorframe when he saw Sam standing at the sink. “Sam?”

“What?” Sam was standing stiffly, shoulders squared, hands pressed palm down on the counter.

“Can we talk?” That was _not_ something that Dean would normally suggest but he wasn’t willing to leave with Sam pissed off at him. He wasn’t willing to go _that_ far, it just didn’t feel right.

“Don’t you have a hunt to get to?” Sam stretched his neck to the side and it cracked but he kept staring out the window over the sink.

“C’mon, Sam. I’m tryin’ here. Sit. Have a drink with me.” Without writing for an answer, Dean headed back into the living room and sat down on the couch.

For a while, it looked as though Sam intended to stay right where he was, then he turned slowly and crossed the kitchen to stand just inside the living room. “What do you want?”

More than a little frustrated, Dean clenched his jaw tightly to stop himself from saying something he’d regret later. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his cheeks then tapped his fist against his lips. “Okay, Sam. What I _want_ , is not to leave here with you pissed at me.”

“Bad start.”

“I can see that.”

“Look, I - I have some reading to do for work. You should probably get going.” Sam’s shoulders slumped a little and after a few moments, he walked over and sat down beside Dean.

“I wasn’t going to leave without talking to you, Sam. I was just gettin’ everything together, seeing how it felt, y’know?”

Sam’s hazel eyes were wide and a little glassy when he stared at Dean. Finally, his expression softened and he nodded. His hair fell forward and hid his face.

Dean rubbed his hand on his thigh then lifted it and brushed the hair back from Sam’s cheek so he could tuck it behind his ear. He trailed his thumb along the height of Sam’s cheekbone and felt a little thrill when Sam leaned into the touch. “I guess I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

Dean smiled and slid his hand up to cup the back of Sam’s neck. So strong, and still just a bit fragile after everything he’d been through. But, Dean would make a really bad bandaid for all the wounds Sam was dealing with. And soon enough, Sam would realize that. “It’s a strange world we live in, Sammy.”

Sam frowned, a slight smirk on his lips. “Sammy?”

“Sue me, it just slipped out.”

“Call me, Sam.”

Dean grinned. As pointless as it was, he couldn’t help filing the nickname away for future ammunition.

The smirk on Sam’s face became a smile when he saw Dean’s face. For a moment or two, he looked a little surprised then he blinked slowly and turned to face Dean. “You got a bit of time?”

All the tension between them seemed to have dissipated and Dean regretted the time they’d spent pissed off at each other. “Yeah. I-”

Sam’s mouth found Dean’s in a heartbeat, hard and determined. For a couple of seconds, Dean had the urge to pull away, rip the bandaid off quickly, then Sam’s tongue slid forwards, his huge hands slammed into Dean’s chest and he pushed him back against the arm of the couch.

Dean’s head spun as the memories of their first night together came rushing back. _God_ , he’d forgotten how strong Sam was.

It was a struggle for them both to fit on the couch but Sam didn’t seem to care. His hands shoved at Dean’s jacket until they managed to get it off then his palms were under Dean’s t-shirt and on the sensitive skin of his chest.

Ribs twinging slightly, Dean shifted under Sam only to find himself yanked down until he was lying on his back.

Heat cut into Dean with a dizzying intensity. He grabbed Sam’s hips and held on, thrusting his own hips up because, _fuck_ , he was already hard and onboard with whatever the hell Sam wanted.

Sam pushed up to his knees and tugged at Dean's belt until it came loose. He pulled Dean’s jeans down until Dean had to kick his legs up to get free. One of his feet landed on the floor beside the couch, the other was jammed down between the cushion and the back of the couch. Groaning, Dean yanked his t-shirt off and threw it up at Sam’s chest. “Dude.”

Sam had one knee on the couch between Dean’s legs and the other sprawled out to the side to prop himself up. His face was flushed, sweat was already beading on his forehead and his hair was tousled. The only thing Dean really objected to was the fact that Sam was still fully clothed.

Lips twitching into a smirk, Sam raised an eyebrow and licked his lips.

“Little uneven here, don’t ya think?” Dean gestured vaguely towards Sam’s body.

Sam shrugged a shoulder as his gaze trailed down Dean’s body.

“Fuck,” Dean said softly. Sam was looking at him as though he could taste every inch of Dean’s flesh. His eyes were dark, sliding along the curves and lines of Dean’s body. The _want_ that was written all over Sam’s face made Dean’s cock pulse and he reached down to squeeze the base of it. “Sam.”

Sam drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly then leaned forward to grab Dean’s wrist. He pulled until Dean managed to get with the program and scramble to his feet.

The next thing Dean knew, he was flush against Sam's body. His cock ached where it was trapped against Sam’s jeans. The heat of Sam’s palm slid over Dean’s hip and around to settle right at the top of his ass.

Sam’s gaze was locked on Dean’s and his breath was hot as it danced across Dean’s lips. His tongue swept over his bottom lip. Eyes dark and heavy-lidded, Sam walked Dean back slowly until the cool wall was pressed against his back.

He could resist if he wanted to. Sam was a big guy, muscular and fit but Dean was a trained fighter. The thing was, he didn’t want to stop Sam. He fucking loved the way Sam could move him around so easily. He got off on the way they were almost the same height. _Fuck_ , Dean had to actually go up on his toes slightly to reach Sam’s lips. It was unsettling and hot-as-fuck all at the same time.

Sam’s mouth moved along Dean’s jaw as he leaned into him. One hand settled hot and firm on Dean’s bare hip, the other curled over the nape of Dean’s neck.

Every time Dean sucked in a breath all he could smell was Sam. There was the stupid flowery scent of his shampoo, the hand soap he used at work, the laundry detergent in the clean shirt he always put on at the end of the day. Dean shouldn’t know all those things, but he did, and part of his brain liked it.

Teeth ran along Dean’s jaw then Sam kissed the corner of his mouth. “Just stay tonight.”

One night. How bad could one more night be? With a smile sneaking onto the corners of his lips, Dean nodded once.

Sam’s fingers trailed down Dean’s neck and along his collarbone before ghosting down the length of his arm. Finally Sam’s fingers grasped Dean's hand and pulled gently. “Turn around.”

So it was gonna be like that. Dean raised an eyebrow, kissed Sam’s bottom lip then turned around slowly. The wall felt cool under Dean’s palms and against his chest. He widened his stance, feeling a little cocky when he heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath.

The sound of Sam’s belt buckle made Dean bite down on his bottom lip… _hard_. He heard the purr of Sam’s zipper and the sound of the belt again. Then Sam’s body was pressed to Dean’s back again.

Dean let out a low moan because Sam was still basically fully clothed. His jeans were rough against the backs of Dean’s thighs, the material of his t-shirt soft and heated by Sam’s skin. Normally, the imbalance would make Dean feel a little unsettled but Sam was different. Sam was _killing_ him. The way Sam took control made Dean’s cock ache. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to swallow past the knot of _want_ that was lodged in his chest. So, Dean just _let go_.

He let himself focus on the way Sam’s mouth felt on the back of his neck, the strong grip of his fingers and the way he was rocking his denim clad hips forward into Dean’s ass.

Losing himself in Sam’s strength, the way he held Dean’s hips right where he wanted them, Dean just tried to keep breathing as he attempted to stay on his feet.

His knees felt weak when Sam pressed slick fingers into his ass; his heart skittered around in his chest when Sam nipped at his jaw. _Jesus_. Dean had lost himself completely by the time Sam was fucking him. His sweat-sticky cheek was pressed against the wall, he could feel the cool metal of Sam’s belt buckle, and his swollen cock was being pressed against the wall each time Sam buried his cock inside him.

Dean cried out when he came. His balls felt like they were going to explode and then relief and pleasure flooded through him as his release pulsed again and again.

By the time Sam reached his peak, he had an arm wrapped around Dean’s shoulders and was practically holding him up. They stumbled back to the couch after catching their breath; Dean collapsed half across Sam’s chest.

“Didn’t even get your fucking clothes off,” Dean muttered as he used the last of his energy to stretch up so that he could kiss the rose flush on Sam’s cheek. He was weirdly sure that it had a different flavor from Sam’s lips.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” Sam rumbled. His fingers slipped into Dean’s hair and he sighed as he settled down into the soft couch cushions. “You wore me out.”

“Amateur,” Dean murmured. He felt completely drained, sated and for a muscular guy Sam made a damn good mattress.

Sam’s chest shook a little as he laughed softly.

It didn’t take long for Dean to fall asleep. He had enough time to think about how his ribs ached slightly, his ass ached more but he felt really fucking good.

-=-=-=-

It was a cowardly thing Dean did by leaving before Sam woke up. He persuaded himself it was for the best by thinking about how he wanted to leave while things were good between them. He refused to acknowledge that he didn’t want to say goodbye to Sam.

For the first hour he was on the road, he wondered if Sam would text him, call - even if it was to yell at him. But as the miles of road passed under the Impala’s tires, Dean realized that Sam might not bother calling. Why would he?

Not only had Dean sneaked out of the house like a criminal, he hadn’t left a note, not a word. Not even after the amazing sex. No, Dean was an asshole. That’s what it came down to. Someone like Sam would _never_ go out on a limb for someone like Dean… well… not twice anyway.

Dean tossed his phone down on the seat beside him. He deserved radio silence.

When the phone finally did ring, Dean jerked the steering wheel to the left accidentally. He swerved momentarily into the path of an oncoming car and the driver laid on the horn.

“Fuck you, too,” Dean yelled out the open window as he steered the Impala back into the right lane.

Finally satisfied he wasn’t going to kill himself, Dean reached out and snatched up his phone. “Hello?”

“Dean, you’re an asshole. You know that?” Sam sounded more disappointed than pissed off and Dean was pretty sure that made him feel even worse.

“Listen, Sam. I’m not worth-”

“-just shut the _hell_ up,” Sam interrupted. “I think you owe me some air time here. Yeah?”

It wasn’t like Dean could argue with Sam’s logic. “Okay.”

“Good.” Sam sighed on the other end of the phone and it sounded like he was moving around “Don’t give me anymore of that _you’re not worth it_ shit, alright? I can make my own decisions about who I want in my life and who I don’t. Got it?”

Dean steered the car onto the shoulder and stopped abruptly. Dust swirled around the car and Dean coughed. “Yeah, Sam. I got it.”

There was silence for a few uncomfortable moments and Dean fought the urge to apologize; he was pretty sure that would just piss off Sam even more. “I’m listening.”

It sounded like Sam bit off a laugh and Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Dean, I get the whole hunting thing. I know I didn’t do it very long but it was enough time to realize what kind of toll it has taken on you.”

When Dean opened his eyes, he stared across the front seat and out across the grassy slope at the side of the road. “Sam -”

“- just listen,” Sam almost yelled. He took another deep breath and when he started speaking again, his voice wavered slightly. “Sorry. I just need to get this out, then you can give me all the excuses and arguments and hang up.”

“Yeah,” Dean said softly. He turned the ignition off and listened to the engine tick quietly.

“I know you hunt. I know you do, and I know you’re not gonna stop. I get that you like bein’ on the road all the time, and I get that there’s a part of you that enjoys what you do. Maybe like is too strong a word, maybe you’re just used to it... but it doesn’t matter.”

Dean nodded slightly, clearly, Sam had some shit to get off his chest.

“There’s something between you and me, Dean. It probably scares the hell out of you, that's why you just try to put distance between us whenever you can.”

Dean shook his head slowly but kept silent. He just had to let Sam get it out and then it would be done. It could be done for good, and that would be better for both of them.

“The thing is I’m okay with all of that, Dean. You don’t seem to realize that. But, I don’t want to _not_ see you at all.”

“Okay,” Dean said. His eyes widened when he realized what Sam had said. “Wait. What?”

“Stop by from time to time. Have a hot shower, a few good meals and a beer, spend some time with me.” Sam paused for a few moments and Dean could _hear_ how nervous he was.

“Sam, my life is crazy.”

“You think I don’t know that? How about this, Dean. You tell me right now you’re not at all interested, that you didn’t enjoy your time here with me and you can hang up now.”

Dean closed his eyes and pressed his thumb and forefinger hard against his eyelids. He didn’t like lying - not _for real_ \- but _Jesus_ Sam wasn’t making it easy.

“I'm. - My life is dangerous, Sam. You hook up with me and you’re guilty by association. Shit follows me; it follows the people who are in my life.” He dragged his hand down his face and over a sensitive spot of flesh just under his jaw. _Sam_ had done that.

“You really think I can’t take care of myself?” Sam asked slowly. There was heat burning just under the rumble of his voice and Dean’s next breath made him shiver.

“I just don’t want you to have to… be there and wondering.” Dean was quickly running out of things to say. His thoughts were racing, his heart beating faster than it should be. It was that _thing_ about Sam again, the thing that pushed him to the edge of his cliff and left him swaying there.

“Let me make my own choices, Dean.”

Both men were quiet for a while. Dean wetted his lips and looked down at where his hand was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Sam.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone and Dean winced.

“Dean, just come back when you can. I’ll be here ‘cause there’s somethin’ about you. I don’t know what it is. No strings, no pressure. You call, you don’t call, just stop by here when you can.”

There was a huge knot rooted in Dean’s throat. He smiled sadly and looked out the window as a pickup sped by. “You take care, Sammy.”

“Be safe,” Sam said softly before he hung up.

Frustrated at himself, at the situation, at everything, Dean threw his phone across the front of the car. It cracked into the passenger door and disappeared down beside the seat.

Just once, he wished he could get away without casualties.

-=-=-=- Epilogue - one month later -=-=-=-

_**Dean:** you around Sam?_   
_**Sam:** yeah. Workin out. U good?_   
_**Dean:** Fine. Just wrapped a case._   
_**Sam:** went well? Where r u?_   
_**Dean:** thinkin maybe i could stop by_   
_**Sam:** you need help? What's wrong?_   
_**Dean:** no fine_   
_**Sam:** Good_   
_**Dean:** so can i_   
_**Sam:** you never had to ask_   
_**Dean:** good, cause awkward otherwise_   
_**Sam:** what_   
_**Dean:** answer the damn door, Sammy_

When the door opened Dean’s lips were pressed together but curved up into a slight smile. He’d been looking forward to seeing Sam but he was nervous at the same time. It was a weird feeling. He wasn’t quite sure what he was walking in to.

A smile, that’s what greeted him when Sam pulled the door open.

Sam was a sight for sore eyes. He was in old jeans and a torn t-shirt, there was a towel over his shoulder and his hair was looking damp with sweat.

“I interrupt somethin’?”

 

Sam’s smile tilted slightly and he almost looked shy for a few moments. “A good workout.”

Dean couldn’t help lifting an eyebrow; it was enough to tease Sam.

“On the treadmill.”

Nodding, Dean held his duffel up slightly and tilted his head towards it. “I was gonna take a few days off.”

“Yeah?” Sam picked up one end of the towel and rubbed it over his face as his smile faded slightly.

Things weren’t going quite how Dean had expected but then that really shouldn’t surprise him. He shrugged a shoulder, frowned and looked down. There really was no reason at all that Sam should be pleased to see him.

“Get your ass in here,” Sam said as he reached out and slipped his fingers into the front of Dean’s jeans. He tugged on the waistband until Dean had no choice but to step over the threshold. 

Sam pushed the door closed with his free hand and stepped forward until he had Dean backed up against the warm wood. “Hi.”

The word sent a puff of warm breath across Dean’s lips and the duffel slipped out of his hand and thumped on the floor beside him. It was hard for him to focus on anything other than the fingers of Sam’s hand that were more than long enough to reach down the front of his jeans and smooth over the dusting of hair above his already half-hard cock. “Hey there.”

Sam’s lips parted and he wetted them, gaze moving from Dean’s eyes to his lips then back again. “So, you’ll be in town for a few days.”

Nodding, Dean smiled took in a slow, deep breath. “I’ve been pretty busy. Thought I would take a week off. Relax.”

“Good idea,” Sam said. He pulled his hand free and pressed it to the door just above Dean’s shoulder. He slipped his free hand under the hem of Dean’s t-shirt and slid the pads of his fingers over Dean’s abs. “You stayin’ here?”

Dean swallowed and squared his shoulders. There was no way he was going to let Sam know how turned on he was. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had other offers while he’d been gone. Sure, he hadn’t taken anybody up on said offers, but that didn’t mean Sam had some sort of special power over him or anything. 

_Really._

_It didn’t._

“Fuck it,” Dean muttered.

“What?” Sam looked a little puzzled but that didn’t stop him from sliding his hand further up Dean’s chest. He rubbed his thumb over the taut peak of Dean’s nipple and leaned in to drag his lips along Dean’s cheek.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Dean said softly.

“Me too,” Sam said just before he caught Dean’s mouth under his.

-=-=-=-


End file.
